


Empty Arms, Full Life

by AussieOnyx



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Discussion of Adoption, Feels, Gen, Speculation, Steve Feels, Tissue Warning, Tony is a troll, elephants doing the can can, first time author-please be kind, hand-wavy medical science, mild swearing, tags likely to change, the shit is about to hit the fan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1900770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AussieOnyx/pseuds/AussieOnyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy knew she was adopted. Her parents never kept that a secret from her. Life happens, and family that she never knew she could have come into her world in a most spectacular way...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all. So, I'm a first-time author, long time lurker and I've fallen for the whole 'darcy is awesome' fandom rather firmly. I guess you'll likely guess the premise for this story within the first paragraph but I didn't want to add it into the tags just in case. Con-crit is welcome (and encouraged) as this is not beta'd in any way. :-P  
> I'm from Australia, so Brit-style spelling with copious use of 'u' will abound. I've also never been to the US often enough to have a solid grasp of local geography, so apologies in advance for errors.  
> Comic cannon? Pfft, what comic cannon? My knowledge of the Marvel-verse is strictly limited to the movies and a 'brief' perusal of the marvel wikipage...

Prologue

Leningrad, Russia. Mid-December, 1985  
Screams echoed down the hall causing the other residents of the facility to stay behind their closed doors. Screams, while not uncommon, never boded well. It usually meant that something had gone horribly wrong- that someone had failed at some aspect of a mission. Not long after the last of the echoes died down, there came the cry of a newborn baby which ceased not long after it began. On the heels of the baby's silenced cry, there were sounds of pitched and desperate battle; loud thuds, groans and the battle cry of an enraged woman. A defiant bellow was cut off with another meaty sounding thud and then there was silence...

Port of San Francisco, Early February, 1986  
The fog had rolled in early and cloaked the Port with a thick veiling mist. He clutched the wrapped bundle close to his wool covered chest and hoped that the agent would be here soon. He had never liked this aspect of his job, but the money was too good and he had debts to pay. The men that he worked for were, to put it mildly, shady. There were rumors that they were involved with human trafficking, drugs and weaponry. Looking down, he thought the rumors were more than likely completely true. Peering back into the fog, he hoped, once again, that the agent would just get here already. There was no way in hell he wanted to be caught in the middle of a public port with his package and no good reason for having it.  
Lights from an approaching car cut through the fog and he breathed a sigh of relief. His part would be over soon and he could go and have a beer...or five. As the agent stepped out of the car, he walked over and handed off the bundle in exchange for the case that the agent had retrived from the front seat. It was done, and he could go on with his life.

Virginia, Mid-March, 1986.  
The woman stepped out of the house and waited for the just parked car to disgorge it's passengers. She had been waiting for this day for what felt like decades, and finally, finally she was going to be a mother. Years of failed fertility treatments, months of negotiating with and jumping through hoops to fulfil the agency's requirements for adoption and weeks of endless waiting when she had heard that she was going to be a mother were finally coming coming to an end with the arrival of this car. She didn't care if the baby was male or female, black, white, Asian or Hispanic, just that they were going to be hers, and nothing and no-one could change that.  
Her breath caught as the driver of the car got out, smiled at her, and then went to the back door of the car. Hands gripped denim as she fought herself to not run down to the car and snatch the baby out of the car.  
Ten steps away, and she could see that the swaddled baby was in a pink blanket covered with fluffy sheep. So, it was a girl. Her smile began to grow bigger.  
Eight steps away and she could see the faintest hint of dark red-brown hair tufts wafting in the light spring breeze. Clenched fingers began to relax.  
Five steps to go. She could feel tears begin to fall down her face. The taste of salt hit her lips as her breath caught in her throat.  
Three steps... two steps and the agent was within arms reach. Her arms came up to accept the precious bundle.  
Half-a-step, the agent was right in front of her and the baby transferred to arms that would always be there to hold, to cherish, to wipe away tears. Arms that had been empty for so long, but no longer. The baby opened her eyes to reveal bright blue orbs that held just a tint of green.  
Drawing a shaky breath, she ran a finger across a downy cheek, pressed her lips to the baby's forehead and whispered, “Hello Darcy, Welcome home.”


	2. The growing years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for the positive reception to this story so far. You're all awesome. This chapter is a bit of a transition chapter before we get to the main meat of the plot, but I hope you'll like the glimpses into Darcy's life growing up.  
> I'm aiming to have this story completed by August- semester 2 starts then, and the only writing I'll be doing will be of the academic variety. :P  
> Also, this is a nice, long chapter to make up for the scarcity of the first...

The growing years

Six-months of age; June 1986  
Finally, finally, Darcy was down for her nap.   
The cold that had ripped through Darcy's day-care over the last fortnight was a bad one, and it had finally caught up with Darcy today. There had been three children from her class admitted to the hospital's Peadiatric ICU for ventilatory support and another six that had been kept under hospital observation for over a week now. After the second hospital admission, the day-care had asked all parents to keep their children home for the next few days as a precaution against further infection and for observation.   
Despite the lost day of pay, Rachel Lewis was glad that Darcy hadn't been as affected by the virus as other children. A low-grade fever and snotty nose made for a grumpy and restless baby as well as a stressed out mum, but it could be a lot worse.   
Darcy had been hers now for three months. There had been adjustment issues for both of them. Rachel wasn't used to having to get up every few hours through the night to change diapers or do the pat-and-sway to get her back to sleep and it seemed that, even though she was barely a few months old, Darcy wasn't used to consistancy with her care takers. Rachel's husband was no help. After the first few weeks of restless nights, he had bailed on them both to stay with his parents. Being a pragmatic person, Rachel wasn't exactly counting on him returning any time soon. 

After an hour of sleeping silence, Rachel managed to sneak a quick shower, a cursory tidy-up of the house and play room and had started dinner for them both. Peeking into Darcy's nursery once dinner was ready, Rachel was glad to see that her daughter was sleeping soundly and without any apparent problems breathing. Deciding to leave her to sleep, Rachel sat down with her dinner and a half-glass of watered wine and let her mind wander at the marvel that was her daughter.   
Darcy's hair was beginning to darken from the red-brown that she'd had when she first came to Rachel, to a darker chocolate brown and was beginning to curl. The red tint was now only present when the sun hit at the right angle. Her eyes had stayed the same bright blue with green flecks and the peadiatrician mentioned that, short of an injury, they were unlikely to change.   
For a six-month old, Darcy seemed to be more advanced than the other children her age; she was able to sit unassisted by four months and was already making moves that hinted that crawling was close around the corner. When not cranky and stuffed up with mucus, Darcy loved to listen to Rachel read to her and would often babble along with her, or anyone willing to take the time to read out loud. Her little social butterfly had the entire family in the palm of her tiny hand, often holding court for as long as people were there to interact with her. Rachel's mum had suggested that it might be worthwhile enrolling Darcy into some enrichment classes beyond what was provided by the day-care, with heavy hints at languages and music. It was something to consider, but money was a concern; with the increasing likelihood of soon becoming a single mum, Rachel was reluctant to commit to anything that would tax the family finances.  
Three hours after being put into her crib, Darcy began to stir. Rachel waited to go into Darcy's room until she started to make some noise. When she did finally go in, she saw that Darcy was sitting up in her crib, playing with her teddy bear and burbling at the fuzzy creature. It was a source of endless amusement for Rachel, to imagine what kind of dialogue was going on between her daughter and the bear. For all she knew, it could be plans for world domination or a discussion on the meaning of life.   
Something must have alerted Darcy to her mother's presence in the room- the bear was abandoned as chubby arms went into the air and made grabby hands. Smiling wide, Rachel lifted her out of the crib and cuddled her close. “Hello, my Baby. Are you feeling better?”. Darcy's eyes were no longer fever bright and her skin was back to its usual post-nap warmth, instead of the clammy heat from a few hours ago. After a diaper check and change, Rachel grabbed Darcy's coverlet and snuggled her into it as they went to the kitchen for food.   
Not bad. Less than a day to get over a touch of a cold? Rachel could live with that- maybe daycare and work could be an option for tomorrow. She'd see in the morning.

**  
Five (and a half!, the half is impnortnant, Mummy!) years old; Early June 1990.  
Rachel had been half-waiting for this call ever since Darcy had managed to get her legs under her. When she figured out that she could walk (at 10 months), and more importantly run (two weeks after that), Darcy'd had only two speeds; Sleep and Go, with the occasional re-evaluation of trajectory after bouncing off a wall.  
Despite knowing that it was coming, there are no words to really describe the way your heart leaps into your throat when the pre-school calls and tells you that there has been an accident, and your child has been taken to the hospital. Trying to stay calm and collected, and failing miserably, Rachel near sprinted to the hospital to find her daughter. Darcy's dad was on his way, but was still a couple of hours out having been on a business trip. Rachel and Adam had reconciled shortly before Darcy's first birthday; it turned out that Adam had been a bit jealous of the time and attention Rachel was devoting to Darcy. After telling him to get over himself and grow-up (a sentiment echoed by Adam's parents when they found out his reasons for his absenteeism), their reconcilliation happened just in time for their first Christmas together as a family. Things were tenuous at first but had gotten better over time and Adam had proven himself to be a devoted dad.

The first glimpse of Darcy lying on the hospital gurney had tears springing into Rachel's eyes. She was so still. For a child that never stopped, to see her unmoving outside of sleep was heart-wrenching. There was a thick bandage and splint encasing Darcy's left arm and looked extremely heavy for such a tiny limb. Her poor baby. X-rays had shown that Darcy's sky-diving attempt from the playground monkey-bars had resulted in a broken wrist. The break was complicated by the fact that the fracture line went through the growth plate of Darcy's distal radius. The doctors wanted to keep her in overnight for repeat radiographs in the morning. There was talk of surgery for pinning if the growth plate was too damaged for a plaster cast. By that point, the world was swimming for Rachel. It sounded as though the medical staff were talking underwater. They wanted to cut her baby. God. 

The stay overnight at the hospital was horrendous. Darcy couldn't sleep- the pain medication that the Doctors had her on didn't seem to even touch the sides. She complained of throbbing and burning sensations deep in her arm. She finally drifted into an exhausted doze just before dawn. Rachel was awake the whole time trying to distract Darcy by reading fairy tales together, watching ALF re-runs and practicing her counting in Greek and French- Rachel had come to a compromise with her mum about language studies; instead of dedicated classes, Rachel and Darcy went to ethnicity-based aged care facilites to talk to the residents and keep them company. Darcy was such a sponge that she was picking up languages easily, and the residents got to spoil a cute little girl. It was win-win.  
Sunset saw the Lewis women walking out of the hospital with a plaster cast, instructions to return to their GP in four weeks for progress radiographs and a prescription for child-friendly doses of pain meds. Rachel was breathing a sigh of relief- surgery wasn't necessary. The fracture that was through the growth plate was only a crack and no-where near serious enough to need pinning or surgical intervention. The trick for the coming weeks, would be to somehow keep Darcy still enough to not re-break the arm before the cast came off. She had no doubts that, as soon as Darcy was feeling better, she'd be off and racing again. Keep her daughter quiet? Ha! The doctors obviously didn't know Darcy.

**  
Seven Years old; January 1993  
Darcy was seven when the issue of her adoption came up. Her and her class had been discussing family traits in their science unit. The teacher had made mention that things like hair and eye colour were often determined by a person's family. Being that Darcy was a dark chocolate brunette with blue eyes and both Rachel and Adam were on the dirty-blonde scale of hair colour with brown eyes, Darcy realised that there was something not quite right. Rachel and Adam had always been clear with her that Darcy could always ask them anything she wanted to, that she could always discuss anything that was bugging her. So she asked. Not really wanting to put her off or avoid the topic, Rachel explained that Darcy's question should be discussed as a family and they should wait until after dinner when Dad would be home as well. Nodding, Darcy skipped off and did her homework while Rachel called Adam at work with a heads-up as to the night's impeding topic for discussion.

The discussion went well. Rachel and Adam explained that they'd had trouble conceiving a child of their own so they decided to adopt. The told her that sometimes, women weren't able to look after their babies, through no fault of their own, so they decided to find them a new family who could love them and care for them when they couldn't. That Darcy's adoption didn't mean that she wasn't wanted by her birth mother, just that she wasn't able to provide for her baby to the best of her abilities. Darcy seemed to absorb this and after careful consideration, asked her parents if they knew anything about her birth mother. Rachel tried not to let the momentary pang of jealousy show on her face (Darcy would see it) and told her what she knew- which wasn't much- only what the adoption agency had told them; that the woman who gave birth to her wasn't able to care for her properly and decided that it would be better for Darcy to be adopted out to a family who could.   
“Okey Dokey. Love you Mummy, Love you, Daddy. Can I go watch cartoons?” Topic over, jealousy gone. Rachel and Adam looked at each other and consented... After a round of hugs.   
It was never brought up again.

**  
Twelve years old; April, 1997  
Puberty arrived with a bang.   
In the space of three months, Darcy had gotten her first period and the beginnings of breasts. It was a fun time for all involved. Fun in the same way that getting root canal was fun...  
Darcy was one of the first girls in her class to start developing- which meant bra-shopping, and with that development came the teasing and bra-snapping. And the tears... oh god, the tears. Rachel was nearing her wits' end. She needed to do something to keep Darcy's mind off the weird stuff that her body was doing. Visits to the nursing homes weren't working anymore- Darcy still went, and had fun with the residents (she'd added playing chess in German with a holocaust survivor to the routine) but it wasn't enough.   
Rachel was flicking through the community newspaper one day and saw an advertisement for self-defence classes. It was like a light-bulb went off. This could work- Darcy would learn to defend herself from the mysoginistic assholes that she'd inevitably encounter as she got older (Rachel may have been projecting on that one- her new boss was a dick), would learn control over limbs that were going through that weird gangly phase that happened when the hormones started kicking in and hopefully, hopefully, start to control the damn mood-swings that resulted in slammed doors and shaking knick-knacks when something went wrong at school. Besides, Rachel knew that Darcy thought Buffy 'Kicked-Ass!' (And, oh-my-god, did you see that last episode with Buffy and Angel fighting Spike!? So Awesome!). This could work.

Oh boy, did it work. Darcy was a natural and went from self-defence lessons to actual training in Tae Kwon Do. Within a few months of starting lessons, Darcy had gone from beginner classes to advanced classes and was being entered into tournaments- and winning. Soon trophies and medals were littering the mantle piece and overflowing onto window sills. Darcy's instructor had pulled Rachel aside after Darcy had reached First Dan (Darcy was nearly thirteen by that time) and reccommended some cross training in another discipline- maybe Aikido- as Darcy was reaching the limits of what he could teach her safely. The instructor gave Rachel the name of a local Aikido instructor who would be willing to take Darcy on as a pupil, despite her age. It came with the added bonus that the Aikido instructor was a traditionalist and only taught in Japanese. Rachel knew that Darcy would jump at the chance for more training; in both another language and another martial art. Her (not so) little sponge.  
With Darcy doing well in her training, Rachel began to feel comfortable working slightly longer hours- knowing that Darcy was capable of looking after herself for a little while- staying back until five pm, instead of leaving in time for school to finish.

**  
Thirteen years old; 1998  
The less said about the time period between grades 8 to 10, the better. Who in their right minds thought that it was a good idea to teach teens about html coding? Really? Especially her little over-achiever? Rachel didn't know what possessed Darcy into thinking that hacking the department of motor vehicles was a good idea. Fortunatly, the judge was fairly lenient in sentencing. No juvie time, but a ban from using a computer or the internet until she was eighteen.   
Grey hairs started coming in thick and fast.

**  
Eighteen years, one month; January, 2004  
The decision of wether or not to go to University straight after high school was discussed at length, and at high volumes.  
Darcy wanted to wait for a couple of years to go to uni- she said that she wanted to catch up on all things computer based, now that her ban had been lifted, and seeing as how more and more course work was being completed online (Rachel winced) as well as explore the world for a bit.  
There wasn't a lot she could do to stop Darcy from doing what she wanted- she was an adult after all, though Rachel and Adam did manage to extract a promise from Darcy that she would be enrolled at university and starting on a degree by the time she was 21.   
Rachel and Adam bought her an iPod as a graduation/going away present.

**  
Twenty years old; March 2006  
The diagnosis shocked everyone. Rachel had been for a routine mammogram and was called back the following day- they'd found a lump on the images. Biopsy results came back as something called 'Ductal carcinoma, in-situ'. Cancer, early stage yet, but still. Not exactly something you expect to hear. Darcy was devastated at the news and was going to be flying back from back-packing around Prague to be with her mum while she underwent the surgery and recovery period. It was a little earlier than planned, but Darcy had needed to be back state-side for first semester at Culver anyway- and really, who cares about travelling when your mum is battling cancer?  
Fortunatly, the doctors had caught the tumor early enough that radiation and chemotherapy weren't needed. Rachel made a joke about being relieved at not losing her hair that wasn't funny initially, but they got a chuckle out of it later when she got the all-clear.  
Scariest six months Darcy had ever experienced. Just the idea of losing her mum freaked her out like you wouldn't believe.

**  
Twenty-four years old; June, 2010  
Gah, second year over! (technically third year, but she'd course-switched after her first year of linguistics and only some of the credits counted towards Poli-Sci). Checking her emails after the last class for the semester, Darcy discovered an one from her year co-ordinator; advising her that the course had been restructured and that in order for Darcy to stay on track for graduation, she needed to make up six credits somehow in the semester break, and forwarded a list of suggested internships that would be eligible to make up the short-fall. Her mum would wash her mouth out with soap to hear some of the cuss words that Darcy used to express her opinion of University bureauocracy.   
Whatever. Internship it was. The list of available positions weren't very interesting; most involved being someone's research assistant, which translated to coffee-fetcher and general gopher. The question then became, where did she want to go to gopher? Options were limited to Virgina, West Virginia, Pennsylvania or DC. There was one opening for something in New Mexico to do with astronomy. Seeing as how it wasn't Virginia or the surrounding states, Darcy had a winner. Besides, that close to Mexico, there was bound to be some decent tamales around somewhere.   
And really, how interesting could Astronomy be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: (Better late than never) All named and recognisable characters are the sole property of the licencees. I'm just borrowing them and will return them in the same condition that they came in.


	3. Adventures with Myths and Legends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor happens. Darcy kicks-ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. This one fought me getting written. I'm trying to not retell the entire plot of the movies, but a bit of it still snuck in.   
> Thanks again for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. Your support is appreciated.

Adventures with Myths and Legends

Puente Antiguo, April 2011  
After realising that Thor wasn't just a crazy person who was off his meds, Darcy got to know the displaced alien and realised, that despite the millenia (in Earth time) that he'd been alive, Thor wasn't much older than herself. Maybe not as well adjusted as he should be, but still, learning about who he was and who he was to become.   
The myths and legends surrounding Thor and the Aesir had always seemed to paint Thor as a bit of a gullible idiot and Odin as the wise-old king who never made mistakes. Darcy couldn't help but wonder how many of those stories were actually true and how many of the others were more along the lines of the classic fishermans' fabrication; “I once caught a fish this big”.   
Given the evidence in front of Darcy in the form of a parentally rejected, but really good looking alien former prince, she was beginning to think that most of the stories were merely revisionist history and propaganda.  
If anything, some of the Norse legends read more along the lines of drunken frat boy pranks- dressing in drag and stealing something from an authority figure? Straight out of the plot of 'Animal House'. But it wasn't like Darcy could go up to him and ask for the real story... at least not this early in their friendship anyway. Maybe after a few beers.

The morning after Erik and Thor's bender at the local watering-hole was a source of amusement for Darcy.   
After getting out of bed and checking on Jane to make sure she hadn't fallen asleep on her papers again, Darcy wandered into the kitchen, still in kitten pajamas and monkey-feet slippers, with the vague idea of starting breakfast for everyone (or at least putting on the coffee pot) to find Thor, up, dressed and frying up a skillet of bacon while scrambled eggs were kept warm in a covered bowl. He was looking none the worse for wear while Erik groaned into his folded arms and refused to look up. Darcy rightly attributed Erik's reluctance to move his head to a killer hang-over.   
“So, how much alcohol did the two of you consume last night?” Noticing the coffee pot was depressingly empty, Darcy moved to rectify the oversight.  
Thor grinned at her. “Sir Erik and I consumed a number of the beverages known as 'Boiler-makers'. They were quite enjoyable. I must remember to mention them to Volstag.”  
Erik groaned again. Darcy thought she heard him mumble something about people lacking in volume control and smiled, quite evilly. The coffee pot gave a gurgle of completion just as Jane drifted in with her nose in some kind of research. Darcy figured she was likely half-drawn out of her science haze by the smell of cooking bacon. Privately, Darcy thought that the smell of cooking bacon could wake a coma patient, though she had never tested that theory- might be a research paper in there somewhere.

Darcy put a cup of coffee, a glass of water and some tylenol in front of Erik's covered face- she wasn't gentle about it either (the ceramic made a satisfying thunk against the formica of the bench) then moved to fix the other cups of caffeinated manna according to individual taste. Jane got two sugars and full-cream milk (she needed the calories) while Thor got regular black.  
After some prodding, Jane put the read-outs to the side and dove into the bacon and eggs with a ferocity that would usually be associated with a lion taking on a zebra; an objective observer might think that Jane's enthusiasm for actual food might stem from subsisting solely on pop-tarts... oh, wait. Darcy was amused to note that the meal didn't stop Jane from quizzing Thor about the correlations between what defined science versus what constituted magic though. From the way they were talking, it sounded like they were just continuing a previous conversation. Time for a shower.  
**  
Darcy was half expecting a rock song with a strong bass-line to be playing in the background as Thor and his friends battled the robot-on-steroids as it destroyed Puente Antiguo. Maybe something that wouldn't be out of place in a Michael Bay movie that had gratuitous explosions...  
When Thor went down, Darcy had to physically restrain Jane from bolting over to where the fallen alien was lying; until the robot thing was nothing more than melted slag, it wasn't dead, and she wasn't going to move, or let her friend-slash-boss move, from what little cover she'd found until it was. Darcy'd seen more than her share of slasher movies to know that the bad guy always comes back until someone finally buys a clue and empties a clip or two into vital organs.   
Restraining Jane was harder than it looked though; for someone so slender, she was feisty. Just as Darcy was giving into the temptation to put Jane into a wrist-and-arm lock, Thor had his messiah moment (there should be some Victorious String piece playing for this bit) and destroyed The Destructo-Destroyer-Smashy McSmasherson (whatever) thing (more victorious strings, merging into the thumping bass-line rock song). Ha! How was that for poetic justice?!  
After this, Darcy was totally removing any trace of the transformers from her memory; cool Saturday morning cartoon version or sometimes frustrating toys just didn't hold the same level of niftyness.

It's possible that Darcy was in some type of shock; on her most tired days, she didn't babble this badly...even if it was in her own head.

Jane and Thor's epicly romantic reunion was interrupted by the arrival of the Men-in-Black in their shiny, shiny SUVs. Not cool. Couldn't they see that there was a 'moment' happening? Rude. Next thing she knew, Thor was flying off with Jane to who knows where and Darcy was left standing in the middle of a ruined town that still had random fires burning. A still hung-over but mostly mobile Erik came over from the car he was hiding under, looked at Darcy, lifted an eye-brow and began stumbling over to the lab. Nodding to the unspoken question, Darcy followed. She needed coffee. She needed all the coffee and possibly a shot or two of something stronger.  
**  
The lab was a hive of activity when Darcy came back in; the equipment was being returned to a rough approximation of where they were before being 'borrowed' so abruptly. Ignoring the SHIELD flunkies for the moment, Darcy hunted down a clean mug, filled the percolator with grounds and pushed the buttons that would make the coffee come.

She was so focused on the coffee pot doing its thing that she didn't notice the person coming up behind her until she felt a hand on her right shoulder. It startled her badly enough that she just...reacted. Her left hand went on top of the hand on her shoulder, holding it down, right elbow went into the dude's solar plexus, step into and to the back of the body behind her and flipped him over his own shoulder.   
Next thing she knew, there was a man groaning on the ground, multiple agents with guns half out of their holsters and Agent Son-of-Coul staring at her with an actual almost expression- if Darcy had to guess, there might have been some hint of amusement there.  
Turning her attention to the agent she'd put on the ground, Darcy let rip her ire, “Dude! Don't sneak up on people. Make some noise or something. Especially after a day like today.”   
With a coughing wheeze, the agent choked out “I-iPod” and then slid her beloved device across the floor to her before climbing to his feet and stumbling away. Remembering her manners, Darcy chirped out a “Thanks, dude!” to the retreating agent's back, picked up the music player and turned back to the coffee pot just as it was gurgling complete. The sound of equipment being positioned started up again and she was finally able to have her coffee.   
What a day. She needed to have a shower, curl up in her doona with her teddy bear and cry to her mum. After coffee though.  
“Miss Lewis.” Scratch that. She'd talk to her mum after she'd dealt with the head MIB.  
“Yes, Agent? What can I do for you?” Even her voice sounded tired.  
“That was quite impressive, Miss Lewis. Agent Jacobs is one of my more senior men. You shouldn't have been able to get the drop on him like that.”   
Darcy didn't rise to the unspoken question posed by the Agent. If he wanted to know about her skills, then he'd have to ask directly.  
“How much of this has been on the media?” Darcy asked, gensturing vaguely around her, indicating the lab and surrounding town. “I want to talk to my mum after I have a shower, and I don't want to go and inadvertantly breach any of the NDA's you're going to make me sign at some point today.” Her coffee cup was getting distressingly low in volume. She was giving him until the cup was empty to get to the point, and then she was leaving. 

With a small smirk of concession, Agent Coulson explained the cover story that was being fed to the media outlets; that an LPG tank had exploded in the middle of the town and destroyed a couple of buildings. As for where Darcy was at the time of the explosion, he was leaving that to her discretion.   
As she was getting up to leave, Coulson handed her a business card with his name and an email address on it. “If you ever need anything, please feel free to drop me a line.”  
“Cheers.” Darcy nodded at the agent and went off to her room. Time to talk to mum.


	4. Welcome to the Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy meets the rest of the Avengers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry about the delay in posting. The original version of the chapter just didn't work. I ended up deleting it... twice...  
> There are a couple of sections that I don't think I got the voices of the characters correct (so are a little shorter)- I'd love to hear opinions on it though.  
> Enjoy! Next chapter will be in progress shortly (I'm off to bed now...)  
> PS: possible trigger warning for a background character being stalkerish.

Welcome to the Asylum

Early May, 2013

Darcy and Jane's introduction to the rest of the Avengers came in fits and starts not long after the cluster-fuck that was London.  
The underwhelming response from SHIELD with regards to an interdimensional portal and primeval forces trashing Greenwich made Jane decidedly unhappy. She had agreed to work with them in return for receiving grant money with the aim at restoring the bifrost from the Earth end. When that same organisation essentially left them to fend for themselves as the world was ending (okay, so it didn't really end, but it damn sure came close), it was unanimously decided that; a) Jane, Thor, Erik and Darcy would all be relocating back to the 'States, b) Ian would be staying in the UK 'cos his mum had grounded him (not really, but that's what it boiled down to) and c) that they all wanted nothing to do with SHIELD anymore. 

It was petty, but if SHIELD couldn't get off their collective asses to help out when the shit was hitting the fan (not even ONE agent!), then Thor and the gang weren't going to help them anymore either. So there, nyahh!

Of course, it was easier said than done. The logistics of relocating just the equipment was a bit of a chore. Not to mention slightly expensive- Darcy had nearly passed out when she checked shipping costs online (twice, just to make sure she hadn't put the decimal point in the wrong spot). 

Thor had offered to help with the money side of things, but he only had access to gold ingots. Trying to exchange those on the open market would likely lead to one or all of them being arrested by the British version of the Securities and Exchange Commission; economies were, funnily enough, a bit twitchy when it came to an influx of gold hitting circulation.  
The remainder of the grant money would only extend to paying for three of the required plane tickets, so that wasn't an option and Erik wasn't much help outside of !Science, or discussions on the merits of cotton versus polyblends when tailoring outer garments. 

Just as it looked as though they might have to reconsider the whole idea and go crawling to SHIELD again, Thor suggested speaking to the Man of Iron. It took them a minute to parse out what Thor was saying, and when Jane and Darcy realised who he was talking about, it was like a cartoon light bulb had gone off over their heads. Of course, actually getting through the Stark Industries switch board to talk to the man himself would be a bit of an ordeal.  
Jane and Darcy decided that Thor would be more likely to get to speak to Stark than either of them; not only because Thor had a history with IronMan, but also because Darcy would probably commit homicide if she was stuck listening to hold muzak for more than a minute, while there was every chance that Jane would get so distracted by an equation that she'd forget she was on the phone in the first place.  
So Thor got to wait on hold until he could speak to Stark while the girls started packing.

~Tony  
Tony Stark arrived with an entourage.  
At some ungodly hour before coffee.

If anyone were to look outside and see the fleet of moving vans, trucks with shipping containers and chauffered towncars, they'd likely think that a circus was coming to town. There were certainly enough burly looking men in coveralls to support that theory, but seeing as it was still pre-dawn, it was doubtful that anyone would be awake. Darcy certainly didn't want to be.

**  
Darcy loved Thor like the brother she never got to have, but he really needed to be slightly less effusive in his greetings- not everyone appreciated having their eardrums ruptured with a joyously bellowed “Well met, friend!” or a hearty thump on the back that could crack vertebrae. Darcy was still trying to get through to Thor that not everyone needed, or wanted, to be greeted like a long-lost friend who was back from the wars.  
She was also trying to get Thor to limit the back-thumping greetings to his less breakable Asgardian friends and stick to an arm-clasp with the slightly more squishy Midgardians. Darcy winced in sympathy as Thor dealt a greeting-thump to Tony that staggered the smaller man. It was still a (slow) work in progress.  
Clearly, Tony had never been owned by a dog- he looked confused at the happiness that Thor was showing on seeing his friend again.

“Long time, no see buddy. How's things shaking on Asgard?” Thor managed to hide his flinch at Stark's quesiton before Tony could see it, but Darcy noticed. She knew that Asgard and the events that lead Thor to moving in with herself and Jane was a touchy subject, but Tony didn't. That was his one free pass- no one was allowed to hurt her family of choice on purpose, or by accident. Ignorance was no excuse. Time to meddle.

Before Thor could answer the billionaire and maybe start to cry, Darcy shuffled into the kitchen in her pajamas, TARDIS slippers and Harry Potter style dressing gown. Yes, she was mixing her franchises, but so what? Both were awesome and needed to be celebrated at all times.

“Morning Thor, Thor's friend. Judging by the fleet outside, I'd hazard a guess that it's moving day?” There had to be time for breakfast. Even if there wasn't, she was making it anyway- the sound of Thor's stomach gurgling could be used by foley artists to replace the sound of an avalanche in a movie. It was scary, and not something that she ever wanted to hear again. Especially without coffee in her system.

“Indeed it is, Lady Darcy. Allow me to introduce my shield-brother; Anthony Stark, Howard's Son and the Man of Iron. Tony, this is my good friend, valued advisor and somone that I consider family, the Lady Darcy Lewis.” Darcy suddenly had gooshy feels- Thor thought of her as family? She kind of knew that he did, but it was always nice to get confirmation.

Thor beamed with pride as he continued the introduction, “Lady Darcy is my Jane's heart-sister and helps with the research. Her weapon was that which knocked me to the ground 'ere I first arrived on Midgard, after my exile.”  
Darcy saw an eye-brow lift up behind Stark's sunglasses at Thor's declaration. Sunglasses? Before dawn? Whatever.  
“Aww, thanks, Big Guy. But he makes it sound cooler than it really was.” Darcy gave Thor an affectionate shoulder bump as she started pulling out pans.  
“Did you want to join us for some breakfast before we start lifting and toting, Mr Stark?”  
“Will there be coffee?”  
Thor's chuckle matched Darcy's smirk. 

**  
Tony didn't know why Thor was laughing. There was obviously an inside joke that he didn't get. Yet.  
The chick in the Harry Potter robe had started pulling stuff out of the fridge. Bacon, mushooms, capsicum, onion, eggs, cheese. Cooked potato? Oookay.  
“Of course there's going to be coffee. I don't survive without coffee. Neither does Jane for that matter.”  
Thor moved to fill the coffee pot while Darcy started cracking eggs into a bowl. She looked up at Tony as she added some salt, pepper and oregano to the bowl. “Are you allergic to anything on the bench, Mr Stark?”  
Shaking his head in negation to Darcy's question, Tony watched what she was doing with the ingredients. Chopping, dicing, slicing, stirring. It was like a dance. She was clearly a natural in the kitchen. And the food was beginning to smell wonderful.  
“Hey, Thor. Can you go and wake Jane and Erik, please? The food will be done in a few minutes and you know how long it takes either of them to get out of bed.” Darcy was slicing English Muffins in half and putting them under the grill to toast.  
Tony knew a busy task when he heard one being delegated and wondered what she was going to say to him while Thor was out of the room.  
Onions and capsicum were being added to the pan to soften as Darcy spoke quiet enough to be heard only by Tony, and without looking up from what she was doing with the breakfast...thing she was making. Some kind of casserole?. 

“Thor's mother and brother were killed in the conflict on Asgard. It's still very raw for him, but you weren't to know that before you got here, so you get a pass. He's family to me, and I don't like seeing my family in pain. Please don't mention it to him again unless he brings it up first. Understand?”

Tony blinked in surprise. It wasn't often that people were that direct with him. Really, it was only Pepper and Rhodey who were that honest and straight forward. Before the Avengers formed as a team, Tony had been often surrounded by yes-(wo)men, so it was refreshing to meet someone for the first time, who wasn't cowed by his being 'The Tony Stark'. He couldn't help but respect that.  
Nodding at Darcy, who had looked up when there wasn't an answer straight away. “Got it. Also, please call me Tony. Mr Stark was my dad.”  
She smiled at him broadly. There were teeth. It was kind of terrifying in a shark-like way. It actually reminded him of someone, but for the life of him, he couldn't peg down who.  
“Excellent, glad we're on the same page.” Darcy started pulling out cutlery, plates, glasses and other bits and pieces. “You can set the table then. Knives go to the right of the place-mat, edged side facing away from the centre.”

Tony had started moving before he knew that he was; he didn't want her to smile at him like that again.  
“Hey, Tony?”  
He turned back to the bench at her call.  
“Welcome to the family.”

~Bruce  
Mid-May, 2013  
Normally, Jane was a very composed person. The only times that Darcy had seen Jane less than collected, all had to do with Thor. She could now add meeting Bruce Banner to that list. Jane actually gushed with effusive praise and techno-babble as she shook his hand. Poor Bruce just looked embarrased. Darcy mentally face-palmed and stored the memory of Jane fan-girling all over one of her !Science idols to the 'use-to-guilt-Jane-into-giving-me-time-off' databank. There may have also been video evidence.  
Jane'd obviously (to Darcy) had idea about an equation (there was a particular face that Jane had when she got an Idea- almost like she smelled something bad) as she was mid-conversation with Bruce and had wandered off to to find a white-board before she forgot. The fact that she also cut Bruce off mid-sentence was completely lost on her- !Science had once again made Jane its bitch. Darcy was determined to set a better impression of Team Bifrost and was on her best behavior as she introduced herself to a slightly confused Bruce.

“Hi there. I'm Darcy, Jane's wrangler, gopher, pop-tart fetcher and all-round nagging assistant. Glad to meet you.” So far, so good. No social gaffes...yet. “Sorry about Jane. She usually has better social skills than that.”

Bruce smiled. “That's quite alright. Would you like for me to show you where you're going to be setting up? I'm afraid Tony is... enthusiastic about collaborative work, as long as he doesn't have to participate in it.” The smile faded as Bruce continued. “Tony seems to think that me sharing a lab with another team is a 'Good Thing',” he even did the air-finger-quotes, “but often forgets that not everyone may be comfortable being around me.”

Poor fluffy scientist. Talk about low self-esteem. Darcy would have none of that.  
“Why? Because you're sometimes a bit moody?” Master of understatement. That was her.

“That's one way to put it. If a bit mild for the reality of the situation.” Bruce gestured for Darcy to accompany him to their new work-area so that he could point out helpful things like the bathroom, first aid kits and safety showers.

“Bruce, I can call you Bruce, right?” He nodded. “I get that you can be The Hulk when you're having a bad day. I do. Tony told me all about his science-bro and how he convinced you to stay with him despite your misgivings- he was quite proud of it.  
“But, see, here's the thing. In the last two-and-a-bit years, I've survived both a small New Mexico town and a large bulk of London being blown up by alien invaders. I've seen interdimensional portals open up over the sky, close to where I was at the time. Because some douche-canoe holding grudge was having a temper tantrum, or not wanting to share their toys, they decided to try and end MY world! Both times! So, after all of that, the fact that you may be having a giant Green mood-swing doesn't really rate on my 'Oh-shit' meter.”  
Darcy was gesturing wildly by this point. “At least when you go Hulk, there's usually a good reason for it- like someone is trying to pin you down for vivisection.” 

Bruce was looking at her as though she was either insane (possible) or some kind of puzzle. Darcy wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. “I'd never thought about it that way before.”

Darcy grinned at him. “I'm all about the perspective. So I'll make a deal with you Bruce. If you think that you're feeling all Hulk-ish, I'll either make sure you get enough space so that you don't feel threatened any further, or I'll call Thor for you both to have a wrestling session.” Bruce's smile was back. Yay, Her!  
“In return, I would like for you to think of Jane and I as friends that you can talk to and lean on. Should you need us.” Darcy held out her hand and waited for Bruce to accept.

She waited...

And waited...

Just when she thought her arm was about to fall off (it'd only been a about a minute. She needed to work on her upper body strength), Bruce smiled, took her hand and shook it. 

“Deal.”

 

~Clint and Natasha

July, 2013  
Team Bifrost had been living at the Tower for about three months before they encountered the more elusive members of the superhero squad- apparently, they'd been on assignment since before London went to shit. Darcy was a little disappointed that they weren't in residence when they'd arrived. She'd been looking forward to meeting the Black Widow ever since she saw the footage of New York- one woman, with no real gadgets, taking on just as many bad guys as the man in the tin can. It was fair to say, The Widow was Darcy's hero.

Thor had told Jane who told Darcy that Hawkeye and “Shield-sister Widow” would be due back sometime that week, but wasn't sure when exactly. So it made sense that Darcy would meet them for the first time when she wasn't particularly at her best. That was just how her luck worked.

**  
Tyler had seemed like a nice guy at first. He'd been charming and witty and ever so slightly sarcastic. They'd had numerous conversations about everything that was wrong with hipsters, the state of the nation and why a universal welfare and health system was needed. The cracks started to show when he always wanted to know where she was, who she was with and when she would be back. All the damn time.  
After the fiftieth call in a row within a single 24-hour period, Darcy had called off the relationship. Luckily, they hadn't gone any further than a good-night kiss (they'd only been together for three-weeks, she wasn't easy!).  
She'd told him in no uncertain terms that she never wanted to see him darken her door-step for the rest of her life and to lose her cell number or there would be police and restraining orders involved. She thought that he'd understood that.

So, when Darcy saw him standing in the foyer of the Tower after returing from running an errand for Jane, she was not pleased to say the least. 

“I thought I told you to stay away from me, Tyler. Or did you not understand the simple English I used at the time?”  
As Darcy looked at her ex, she saw something cross his face that put her on edge- there was a brief glimpse of something unhinged in his gaze that made the hairs on her arms stand up. No way in hell was this going to be settled with words. Or logic, for that matter. Darcy began scanning the room for exits, people who might be helpful and items that could be used for defence. If the situation called for it, the free-standing lamp in the corner would come in handy as a bludgeon.  
Ordinarily, Darcy would be reaching for her Taser right about now, but Tony was currently working on upgrading it, so she was shit-out-of-luck as far as her normal weapon went.

**  
Clint ran into the back of Natasha as they walked into the tower after being gone on a crap-shoot of a mission. He felt like he'd been sat on by Hulk- everything hurt. Even his hair. Normally, he would have noticed if his partner had stopped moving, but he was bone-deep tired, he'd been distracted by an email that had come through on his phone about setting up a debriefing time and also running a mental inventory of every bruise on his body. Those were his excuses, and and he was sticking to them.  
Just as he was looking up from deleting the message (that way he could play innocent when he didn't show to the debrief- What email?), he saw a stacked brunette knocking away the hand of some lanky guy that had been reaching to grab her upper arm. The brunette then proceeded to throat-strike, trip and then put said dude into an arm lock as Starks' security force finally realised that something was going on and started moving to assist.  
Poor response time. He'd have a word with Stark about that. 

What was even more amazing than seeing a short woman take down a guy taller than herself (though, you'd think he'd be used to it with Nat as a partner), was that Natasha had started to chuckle under her breath. Clint's mouth fell open. Nat hardly ever showed amusement at anything other than Clint, even then it was usually because he'd gotten into some kind of scrape. Again.

Just before security arrived to take custody of the dude lying on the marble of the foyer, they saw the woman stomp on the guy's privates (Clint winced in sympathy) and heard her snarl “Toh fie skatos skeli! Malaka!”.  
Nat was laughing out loud now and had started walking over to the woman. Clint figured that he'd tag along- as far as he was concerned, anyone who could make Nat LOL was worth meeting. 

**  
While Darcy yelling at security about why Tyler was let into the building again despite a request to the contrary, she noticed two people coming towards her. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous, had ear-length red (like, arterial blood red) hair and a feral grin. The guy, who was (hiding?) behind the woman, had sandy-blonde hair, drool-worthy arms and looked as though he'd gone a few rounds with a heavy-weight boxer (and lost) recently. Both of them carried themselves as they moved, much in the same way her Aikido Sensei used to- as though to mess with them would be the equivalent of volunteering for an ass-kicking.  
Head-security-dude visibly straightened and adjusted his shirt as they got closer. Mr Lost-a-fight cast a critical eye over him. Darcy got the impression that he had found the security team's response to Tyler being in the building, somewhat lacking and knew that there would be 'words'. Heh!, served them right- Darcy had asked that Tyler not be allowed in the tower, even gave security a picture. 

“Is everything alright over here?” The tone of the woman's voice gave the impression that she wasn't really asking a question, more that she was making a statement that things had better be under control. Or Else.  
“Yes, Ms Romanoff. We were just escorting this... gentleman out of the building.” Head-security-dude (Simmons? Simpson? Smith?) made a gesture at Tyler- now lying in a foetal postion on the ground, cupping his abused genetalia- that had the rest of the security team pick him up and start moving to the doors.  
“Excellent.” Dismissing the security team, the newly identified Ms Romanoff turned to Darcy and extended a hand. “Natasha Romanova. The clown behind me is Clint Barton. That was a well executed take-down, if a little sloppy toward the end. Are you with SHIELD?”

Shaking the woman's hand, Darcy was chasing a stray thought: Romanoff... Romanova... ooh, fuck. This was the Black Widow... Work brain, work. The Black Widow was talking to her! Darcy's inner fan-girl squee'd, spun in a circle and was jumping up and down in delight. That would mean that Mr Lost-a-fight was Hawkeye.

“Thanks. I'm Darcy Lewis, and no, not with SHIELD,” Darcy couldn't help but make a face at the mention of THAT organisation. “I work with Jane Foster upstairs on the Bifrost project. It's wonderful to meet you finally.”  
“Where did you learn moves like that?” Clint spoke up, still standing behind the Widow.  
Darcy smiled at the memory of her training. She should really get back to practice. Ms Romanov (not even in her own head, would Darcy call her Natasha without permission) was right- the arm lock was a little sloppy.

“When I was a teen, mum enrolled me into self-defence classes. The classes morphed into TKD and then into Aikido.” Clint's face showed some surprise at what she was saying. “I should really get back into training though. Hanging with Jane through the entirety of the Thor saga really has made me a little lax in my practice.” 

“Should you wish, I'd be more than happy to train with you, Ms Lewis. It's always good for women to have the skills to look after themselves.”  
Darcy's inner fan-girl fainted.

“I'd like that Ms. Romanov. Thank-you, and please, call me Darcy.” She was trying really, really hard not to gush all over the woman. It was hard work.

“So, who was that guy, and what did you say to him?” Clint piped up. He'd been silent while Nat was talking to Darcy. Though he couldn't help being slightly stunned at her offer- Nat didn't take to people very quickly.

Darcy shrugged and started walking with them towards the elvators. “That was my ex. I kicked him to the curb when he started turning into an obsessive, stalking vlakos. I'd asked security not to let him into the building again, but someone mustn't have gotten the memo. As for what I said, well, I called him a fucker and told him to go and eat dog shit.”  
Natasha started laughing while Clint grinned at her. 

 

~Steve

July, 2013  
Darcy was having her ass handed to her by Natasha in a sparring match. This was not an unusual situation since she'd agreed to start training with her. But she was getting better. Sort of.  
Well, at least she didn't hit the floor after a few seconds anymore- she could hold out for _at least_ a minute.  
A sneaky foot sweep saw Darcy's back hit the mats again. Panting hard to catch her breath, Darcy saw Natasha sank to the ground next to her head in a graceful slump. She wasn't even puffed. The bitch.

“Much better sestrenka. Some more practice and I'll set you to sparring Tony. It would serve his ego well to but put on the floor by you.”  
Darcy was still panting, so she settled for glaring at the older woman instead of speaking.

A masculine chuckle echoed through the gym. Darcy managed to lift her head from the mat. The rest of her was still unwilling to shift.  
The man standing in the doorway was tall, blonde, really cut and drop-dead gorgeous. And she currently looked like 5 miles of badly paved road. Fan-fracking-tastic.

“When you do spar Tony, can you please make sure that I'm there to see. So I can watch, and mock, and laugh.” Blonde and cut was smiling at her. She waved at him.  
“Hi there. I'm Darcy. I'd stand-up and shake your hand, but I currently can't move,” he laughed softly and walked over. “Nat killed me. Again.”  
Grabbing her flap/waving hand, the man hauled her to standing and then gave the noodle-like limb a shake. “It's a pleasure to meet you Darcy. I'm Steve.” He nodded to Natasha, who was still sitting on the floor. “Agent Romanova, good to see you again.”  
“Captain.” She nodded at the man.  
Wait... Captain? Captain America? Oh, balls. She really had to stop meeting the Tower's residents when she wasn't at her best. Granted, there weren't many left to meet, but still. It was the principle of the matter.

“So, Darcy, what possessed you to spar with Natasha here?”  
“Momentary insanity. I thought that it was a good idea at the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vlakos: Anglicised Greek, meaning 'Moron'  
> Sestrenka: Anglicised Russian, meaning 'Little sister'  
> TARDIS slippers: http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/1272/  
> Harry Potter robe: http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/16a8/


	5. Bored Suspicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start getting complicated when Darcy gets hurt...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, I feel as though Steve got a bit short-changed in the last chapter, so there's a bit more of him here. There won't be any shippy action unless the story pulls me that way, so don't get your hopes up. :)
> 
> The plot thickens...
> 
> Also, once again, thanks to all for reading/reviewing/kudos-ing (is that a word?)

Bored Suspicions

Darcy was bored.  
A bored Darcy was never a good thing. Ever since she'd been a kid, there had been a constant struggle to keep her mind occupied enough so as not to get in trouble. That whole DMV issue with the hacking?- mostly out of boredom. Her mum had once compared a bored Darcy to a golden retriever puppy (or any puppy for that matter) left alone with the Christmas tree- you were bound to come home and find the tree on it's side, decorations shattered and tinsel in the bathtub. 

Jane and Bruce were away at some conference thing, so work in the labs had been suspended until they got back in a couple of days- Jane had left stuff for Darcy to do, but she'd completed it within an hour. Thor was back in Asgard for some ceremony thing, Tony was off in Malibu and had banned her from his lab without him there after he'd caught her trying to unionise Dum-E, You and Butterfingers.  
Nat and Clint were off on some mission to the middle of Nowhereistan so weren't due back for a couple of weeks and Steve had been called to Washington to play dancing monkey (his words, not hers). So Darcy was bored. And possibly getting whiny about it.

She'd already called and spoken to her parents this week. If she called them again before a full seven days had passed, the first thing out of her Mum's mouth would be a resigned sigh of 'What did you do, this time?'. Completely unfair, but there was precedent so it was kind of understandable.

Deciding to find something to do before she took apart the toaster to poke at the wires (again, precedent), Darcy went to investigate the kitchen for cookie fixings. When in doubt, bake.  
“Hey, J-man?” They were out of chocolate chips- Thor!  
“Yes, Miss Lewis?” He sounded tired. Darcy couldn't understand why at first, then she remembered staying awake and talking with the AI until she finally fell asleep. At three in the morning. Oops. When Darcy was bored; her train of thought tended to bounce around, topic to topic with no logical segue and all her filters tended to disappear, so it was likely that she'd managed to confuse Jarvis jumping from politics, to animal behavior, back to politics, over to the evilness that was Elmo from the muppets and then over to music- all in the same sentence. For hours on end. Again, oops. She should probably take it easy on the poor thing.

“I'm going to make cookies for the gang, but we're out of chocolate chips again. Thor must have gotten into them. Could you please place an order for cookie ingredients with the local grocery store? Make it a double, no, triple batch.”  
There was a beat before Jarvis replied. “The order will arrive in approximately sixty minutes.”  
“You the man, Jarvis!” She was still bored though. Maybe if she did some exercise or something until the cookie ingredients got there.  
“I'll be in the gym until the cookie stuff get here, buzz me when everything arrives?”  
“Certainly, Miss Lewis.”

**  
Bruce had introduced Darcy to yoga in the first weeks of being within each others' orbits. In the beginning, when Darcy's physical fitness could best be described as 'lapsed', she found it painful and had spent many minutes whinging about how everything hurt in new and horrible ways- the ass who came up with 'Feel the Burn' had obviously never experienced her training schedule with both Nat and Bruce around. After a few months though, Darcy found that she was a lot more flexible and wasn't getting thrown around by the assassin as much. She was still losing her sparring matches most (all) of the time, but it was taking longer to happen. Her best attempt so far was 110 seconds (Jarvis timed it) before landing on her back- some improvement was better than none, so Darcy was counting it as a win.

Another benefit to the yoga routine that Bruce had set her, was that it seemed to mesh well into her Kata routines for both Aikido and TKD. There were many days where Darcy would move seamlessly from the pattern of moves from one routine to her yoga stretches and then into a pattern from the other. Nat had filmed her doing just that one day and played it back to Darcy; Darcy had never seen herself move so gracefully before. Ever.  
For those few minutes, her mind was still, completely focused on how her limbs moved and were positioned in relation to each other, moving fluidly into the next position with no hesitation or stutter of movement. Peace.

Before she knew it, Jarvis was interrupting to let her know that the ingredients had arrived for cookies.

**  
The first batch of double chunk chocolate cookies were out of the oven and cooling on racks scattered around benches when Jarvis alerted Darcy that Steve had returned and was on his way up.  
Time for a break then. Darcy had the coffee pot filled and brewing when the elevator dinged and let Steve off.  
He looked like crap.  
“Hey there Steve. You don't look happy. Is everything okay?” Darcy had a coffee poured and doctored the way he preferred before he even sat down. That was her folks; Bartender of the Bean!  
The next batch of cookies were ready to come out of the oven, so Darcy went to grab them out while Steve was gathering his thoughts, and put the next batch in.  
“I hate what's happened with the world since I fell, Darcy,” He said quietly to his coffee. “I was called to Washington to answer pointless questions from men who's only reason for having me there was to grow and foster their own interests and agendas. They didn't care about anything or anyone but themselves.”  
Darcy didn't say anything. She just sat next to him and let him say what he was going to.  
“When I joined Project Rebirth, I thought that I could make a difference, that I could help to change the lives of kids in a similar situation to what I was. Show them that there were opportunities to be who they wanted to be. Instead, I saw my best friend, my brother for all intents and purposes, fall from a train, my only consolation with that is knowing that he probably died on impact. I essentially gave up my life for the ideal of what I thought this country could be. All for nothing. What the fuck was the point of it all?” Steve was trembling with emotion, fist clenched and knuckles white.

For once, Darcy thought about what she was going to say before speaking. She had a tendancy to just say whatever came to mind, but that wouldn't work for this situation. So she sat, thought and waited until he relaxed a little.  
“There are so many trite things that I could say to you right now, but they wouldn't make a lick of difference, or ease the hurt and hopelessness you're feeling.”  
Darcy eased her hand into his, linked their fingers just sat quietly for a few minutes before speaking again.  
“Did you know that I finished my degree online?” Steve looked at her with a question written all over his face.  
“After Thor, part one, I didn't want to leave Jane. But the internship was coming to an end- I had my credits and the University would have started pestering me to finish. I didn't want to have wasted all that money on the first few years. So I called in a favour.  
“Just before SHIELD booked out, Phil gave me his card and said to get in touch with him should I need anything. So I did. I don't know what he told the university, but they let me change to online for the rest of my units.” Steve nodded to indicate that he was folowing.  
“Phil and I got to talking one day, I can't remember when, exactly- it was sometime between New Mexico and Tromso, and he told me that you were his inspiration for joining the service, that the examples you set, guided him through all of his decision making to reach that particular point in time. It was why he was such a fan-boy when he met you.”  
“It's a nice story, Darcy, but what's your point?”  
“My point, Steve, is that if it weren't for you, no matter how indirectly, I wouldn't be here to have this conversation with you, I'd probably have wound up in some politician's office as a junior intern and hating my job.  
“Steve, your legacy may not have caused the sweeping global changes that you wanted, but you did make a difference. Not only to my life, but many others as well who have similar stories.”

Steve wiped a sneaky tear away from his eye. Darcy pretended not to notice.

“Thanks, Darce.” He let go of her hand and gave her a one-armed hug. She snuggled into him for a moment, then realised, “Oh, shit, the cookies!” and jumped away from Steve to rescue them from the oven before they burned. Steve threw his head back and belly-laughed.

**  
Darcy was now beyond bored. She could also add 'restless' to the list. And she couldn't sleep.  
Her mother would be getting chills right about now.

Steve had gone to bed hours ago. After eating most of the cookies as well as the entire (bar two slices) family sized pizza they'd ordered for an early dinner/late lunch, Steve and Darcy had talked for hours about the places they'd been and the people they'd met in their various travels. Both of them wanted to see the pyramids in Egypt and the blue of the Medditerranean Sea. Steve had particularly fond memories of going to France, but wouldn't go into details. If the blush were anything to go by, Darcy would hazard a guess that Steve'd had an encounter with a “Lady” that still left an impression, all these years later.  
She'd had fun talking with him and they had managed to kill some time before the day had caught up with the mentally exhausted super-soldier and he'd excused himself to bed with a brotherly peck on the cheek and shoulder squeeze. 

Darcy soon found herself wandering from floor to floor, exploring what and who occupied each office or section.  
On the fiftieth floor, Darcy encountered some of the cleaning staff. They were bopping along to their own music as they vacuumed. Darcy smiled and waved at them. Normally, Darcy would have stopped to chat, but she didn't want to interrupt their work and potentially get them in trouble.

On the thirtieth floor Darcy found the kitchen that serviced the staff canteen located on the floor below. There were a few kitchen staff there preparing for the morning's meals. It was always interesting to watch other people prepare food; they all had their own rhythyms and processes and somehow they all meshed seamlessly to create something wonderful out of raw components.  
That, and Darcy always seemed to pick up some trick for her own cooking (like pre-boiling pototes destined for roasting) by watching the professionals.

It was on the fifth floor that Darcy found trouble. She'd gotten off the elevator and walked into a cubicle farm. It was tastefully decorated and the partitions weren't above a sitting eye-line, but it was still a cubicle farm. She was about to get back onto the elevator- cubicle farms were never interesting- when she noticed a flickering light in a far corner.  
Ignoring every sane instinct that told her to turn and run, Darcy wandered over as silently as she could to investigate.  
As she got nearer, Darcy began to smell something odd. She couldn't place it at first, but then it became more and more obvious as she found the source. There was a dust-bin next to someone's desk that was smouldering. The flames hadn't gotten high enough yet to set of the smoke detectors or fire suppression system, so the fire must have just started. Balls.  
Looking around for a fire extinguisher, she spotted it near the elevators. Darcy had gotten half way to the extinguisher when the bin fully caught fire and was burning happily. Reaching the extinguisher, Darcy turned around to find the cubicle wall next to the bin also alight. Throwing the fire alarm switch, Darcy ran over to the cubicle with the extinguisher, pulled the pin, braced herself pushed the trigger and nothing. Nothing came out of the damn canister. Fuck. Smoke was now billowing everywhere as the flames spread.  
Coughing, Darcy dropped the useless extinguisher as the sprinklers came on and made for the stairs next to the elevator.  
The fire was spreading faster than the supression system could keep up with. Smoke was becoming thicker and obstructing her already crappy vision. Dropping to the floor, Darcy began to crawl as fast as she could to the stairs, but the heat and smoke were becoming opressive. Breathing became harder and Darcy tried not to panic. She tried counting to a hundred in her head to stay focused as she kept crawling. Never had a few yards seemed so far. 

Just as she passed out, she heard someone yelling “Darcy!” and felt herself being lifted off the ground.

**  
Darcy came to in the back of an ambulance, wearing an oxygen mask with a worried super-soldier sitting next to her.  
“Steve.” Ugh, she sounded croaky and everything hurt.  
“Darcy! Don't try to speak,” Steve was holding one of her hands in his while he stroked the hair out of her face with the other. “The paramedics are worried about smoke inhalation and want to get you checked out at the hospital.”  
Darcy nodded, closed her eyes and let Steve's hand lull her into a doze.

She woke again as the ambulance slowed to a stop at the doors to the emergency room. Steve hadn't let go of her hand the entire time they were en route and if it weren't for the insistance of the ER staff, she didn't think he would have until she got to go home. 

Darcy was sitting up in a hospital bed with nasal oxygen cannulas when Steve was permitted into the room to wait with her while the doctors went over her x-rays.  
“Hey, Darce, How're you feeling?” Steve's face was a study in concern.

She sighed. “I'm bored again'” Her voice was still croaky “The docs don't want me to move from this bed until they give the all clear, there's nothing on the tv except hospital advertising and infomercials. And the bed is lumpy and uncomfortable.” Darcy was whining now as she shifted to find a better position that didn't leave a spring sticking into her back.

Concern was giving way to humor as Steve started smiling.  
“Oh, sure, make fun of me why don't you?”  
“I'm just glad that you're still here to be made fun of, Darce. You scared me. Jarvis woke me up as soon as you hit the alarm trigger.” Darcy looked at Steve more closely- he was wearing his sleep pants, a singlet and no shoes. It was her turn to smile at him. “I don't think that I've ever moved that fast down a set of stairs. Once I got you into the stairwell, Jarvis was able to lock the floor down and activate the vacuum system.”  
That made sense. If all the air was sucked out of the room, then the fire has no fuel to keep burning.

“Stark, Pepper, Jane and Bruce are all on their way back to the tower.”  
“Aww, Steve, did you _have_ to call them?” Darcy didn't like being fussed over, and that was what Jane would do, to say nothing of Bruce and Tony; for all that he could be an arrogant ass, Tony did care about his friends.  
“It wasn't me, Darce.” Steve put his hands up in surrender. “Jarvis called Stark and Pepper as an automatic thing- Tony's notified whenever a fire alarm goes off, Bruce got added to the alarm notification list when he moved in as head of Biochem research.”

Before Darcy could reply, her doctor came in to discuss the result of her x-rays. There was no evidence of full blown smoke inhalation or burns, but there was some irritation to her airways that they wanted to monitor as a precaution overnight. With what amounted to an all clear, Darcy managed to convince Steve to go home and get some rest (and a change of clothes) before coming back to get her.

**  
Darcy'd been home for a week when Bruce pulled her aside to talk.  
“I noticed something odd with your x-rays and medical records from after the fire and was wondering if I could ask you something about them?”  
“Sure, I guess. I mean, you'd know more about them than I would, Doc.” Darcy shrugged.  
“The ER doctors said that you'd had some mild irritation to your airways from the smoke but weren't all that worried, right?”  
“That's what they said.” Darcy shrugged again, wondering where this was going.

Bruce frowned. “The thing is, Darcy, when the paramedics first examined you, your oxygen saturation was really low, like nearing 'needs ventilation' low, yet by the time they admitted you to the ER, your saturation was up to low normal, and after the x-rays were taken, you'd normalised completely.” Bruce paused, clearly thinking that Darcy understood where he was going with this. But, nope. She was still waiting for the point.

“Darcy, that's a lot of healing to happen in the space of a couple of hours. Either the paramedic's equipment was badly in need of calibration, in which case I'll get Tony to donate new stuff to the service, or there's something about you that lets you heal damage quicker than anything I've ever seen before outside of Steve and Natasha.”

Darcy was feeling a little uncomfortable with the implication that there was something weird with her. As far as she knew, she was perfectly ordinary in every way. “So, what do you want me to do Doc?”

“If it's okay with you, I'd like to take some blood and run a few tests, as well as get some medical history from you- routine stuff like that.”  
She shrugged. “Sure thing. I can save you some time though. Aside from a touch of a cold when I was six months old, I've never been sick.” Bruce looked sceptical.  
“No jokes, Doc. Broken bones and strained joints, sure, but never been ill. I've never even had head lice.”

“So, you're saying that you've never even had a cold?” Disbelief was dripping in his tone.

“Only once. Mum said that I was about six months old and had a touch of a cold that was making the rounds of my day care. Apparently, a few kids were hospitalised from it, but I only had a mild fever and a stuffy nose. She was super happy about it, 'cos she put me down for a nap and when I woke up later, I was over it and she didn't have to miss more than that one day at work.”

Bruce's eyebrows were up by his hair-line. “When and where was this?”  
“Suffolk Virginia, June 1986.”

Bruce had his thinking face on. Darcy had learnt that you didn't interrupt Bruce when he was thinking unless you wanted to get incoherent answers and half sentences. So she sat and waited.  
Bruce snapped out of it a short time later and turned to her. “Well then, let's get your blood, shall we?”


	6. Tick... Tick... Tick...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce drops a bomb-shell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, So two chapters within a 24 hour period.  
> This chapter wanted to be written. I don't think that I've ever typed so fast in my life.  
> That being said;  
> There is some hand-wavy, pseudo plausible medical science speculation, some monologuing and some wild speculation based on best guesses.  
> It might be slightly triggery if you're sensitive about adoption, so please ensure that you're in a safe mental space before reading.  
> ?Enjoy?

Tick... Tick... Tick... (AKA, Bruce drops a Bomb-shell)

Staring at the results on the screen in front of him, Bruce was... perplexed...and kind of fascinated. But mostly perplexed.  
Darcy's blood results were weird. She showed antibodies to nearly everything you could expect from a kid growing up in the late 80's and early 90's that had been kept to the standard vaccination schedules- in and of itsself, not weird, what was weird were the elevated levels of B and T cells and stem cells; it was possible that the elevation in Darcy's immune response systems were as a result of the smoke inhalation fighting off any potential opportunistic infections, but he doubted it based on the presence of the stem cells.  
He'd run antigen PCR and ELISA tests for everything he could think of; the species jumpers like Hendra, H1N1 and Lyssa; the immunosupressives like HIV, parasites and fungi. Immune to all of them.  
That shouldn't happen unless she'd been exposed to the pathogens at an early age or through maternal antibodies via breast milk. Even then, immunity wasn't guaranteed long-term unless there was continual exposure. Yet, here the results were, staring him in the face. If he weren't worried about the potential for abuse, Darcy would make one hell of a case study.

He'd even investigated the 'cold' that Darcy had mentioned- turned out, the outbreak had made national news, but it wasn't the common cold. Hell, it wasn't even the 'flu.  
The CDC had investigated the incident due to the number of affected children. At the time, the virus hadn't even been identified or sequenced. Yet, for some reason, she'd shaken off a virus that had damn near killed nine children as if it were allergies...as a baby.

Odder still, was that with such a hyperactive immune system, it didn't attack itsself. Bruce's best guess was that the large number of stem cells active in Darcy's system kept everything in check and worked to heal any problems that came up... such as burnt lungs from smoke inhalation, but he'd have to take another sample in a few weeks in order to rule out any normal healing processes.

On a whim, he had Jarvis run a DNA analysis, then had him run it again. When the results came back the same, he ran it a third time as a comparison... Huh. 

“Jarvis, I know that you're obligated to let Tony know about these types of things, but could you hold off until I can talk to them?”

“Under the circumstances, Doctor Banner, I believe that discretion would be the better part of valour. I can refrain from divulging this information for at least seventy-two hours, then my programming dictates that I must inform Mr. Stark.”

“Thanks Jarvis.” Bruce turned and started composing an e-mail. Hopefully the recipient would get it in time.

**  
Location, Classified.  
The ping of an e-mail drew their attention away from the mark momentarily. Touching the screen, they tapped the relevant icon to open the message. Odd.  
 _I've found a time sensitive anomaly that you should be aware of. If safe to do so, you need to return home within 48hrs. Come find me when you get here.  
~B_

They were bored anyway, so why not.  
The mark never saw the syringe that delivered the potassium chloride into their arm. They were dead before they hit the ground. The coroner would rule it a heart attack. 

**  
Darcy was in her room, trying to find the mate to her favourite pair of boots (damn floordrobe, she should really start putting her shit away) when Jarvis interrupted her search.  
“Miss Lewis, Doctor Banner is requesting your presence in his lab.”

Odd. “Did he say what's up, J?” Screw the boots. Flats would have to do. Jane was waiting to go out for dinner.  
“I believe it has something to do with your blood-test results.” Dammit, even the flats she wanted were missing. Fancy flip-flops it was. She'd tidy up tomorrow.  
“Does it have to be right now, Jarvis? For once, Jane's on time and I'm the one running late.”  
“Unfortunatly, yes, Miss Lewis. There is something of a deadline involved. I would be happy to inform Doctor Foster of your delay, if that would help.”

Darcy sighed and blew a piece of stray hair out of her eyes. “Alrighty. Tell Bruce that I'll be there shortly. I just need to find my other flip-flop.”

“Certainly, Miss Lewis. I believe the companion to your current choice of footwear is near the bathroom door.”  
“You rock, Jarvis.”

**  
Darcy was busy texting Jane about her delay as she walked down the hall towards the shared lab and so she didn't see Natasha stepping out of the elevator until she bumped into her. Literally. As in, Darcy's head collided with Natasha's shoulder. There may or may not have been an undignified 'oof' on Darcy's part.

“Hi Nat! Welcome back from Classifiedland. Aren't you here ahead of schedule?,” Darcy rubbed her head- Natasha's shoulders were pointy. “Not that I mind- you're awesome and fun to be around... and I'm going to stop babbling before I dig a bigger hole.”

Natasha smiled. “I got bored. There was an opportunity to end the mission early, so I took it.” 

“Ooh, Nifty. So what brings you down to this neck of the woods? Not that you're not welcome or anything...” Darcy trailed off. She really needed to work on that incoherent fan-girl thing. It was embarrasing; especially after being dropped on her ass by the woman every day for the past few months now.

“Doctor Banner asked me to come and find him when I got back.” One day, Darcy would perfect that tone- you know the one that says, 'that's my answer, if you don't like it, then suffer', as well as the ability to answer a question in a single sentence. 

“Cool, well I'm heading there now as well. Want to walk together?”  
Natasha gave her another smile, nodded and with a cheeky eye-brow, offered her arm to Darcy in a parody of old-timey manners that wouldn't look out of place on Steve. “Shall we?”

“Let's shall!” Darcy agreed with a giggle and linked her arm with Nat's. So awesome.

**  
Bruce was pacing up and down the lab nervously. He'd already bitten his nails down to the quick and was trying to breathe slowly enough that the Hulk would refrain from making an appearance.  
This would either go well, or it could go horribly and result in maiming. He was hoping for the former option. 

“...and I said to Jane, 'if you just let go of the damn pop-tart, then your hand should come right out of the drain' but she wouldn't let go of it purely 'cos it was the last strawberry-frosted that she'd gotten her hands on, and kellogs weren't going to make anymore.” 

Natasha laughed. Bruce had never heard her laugh before. It was like seeing a dog pass up the chance to eat bacon- just not right.  
He felt his heart skip a beat as Darcy and Natasha entered the lab, arm-in-arm. 

“What's up, Doc?” the joke was lame, and had been done to death, but somehow, Darcy still found it funny. “Jarvis said it was something to do with my blood test results?”

Natasha's head whipped around to glare at Darcy as though she were a leopard scenting prey. “Why was Bruce testing your blood, Sestrenka?” All trace of laughter was gone.

Looking guilty, Darcy glanced at Bruce for help. He found the ceiling absolutely fascinating. Bruce heard Darcy huff before giving the abridged version; “There may, or may not have been a small fire that I got stuck in, and as a result landed in hospital for a few hours.” 

Bruce couldn't help but mutter under his breath, 'Sure, if the entire fifth floor going up is classed as 'small'. Nat heard him of course, and stared at Darcy until she began to fidgit.

“Which is it Darcy?” Uh-oh, Nat was breaking out the first name. She was pissed.  
“Fine. There was a fire and I was overcome with smoke. Steve got me out before any real damage was done.”

Bruce interjected before he lost any control of the conversation. “Actually, Darcy, I have reason to believe that the damage was more severe than the x-rays showed. It's the reason why I asked you both down here.”

Being the focus of both women's gaze was a little unsettling. Blue and Green eyes focused on him.  
“Proceed, Doctor. You have our full attention.”

Taking off his glasses and giving them a bit of a polish, Bruce gathered his courage.  
“You should both take a seat, this will take some explaining. Please don't interrupt.” After they nodded in acceptance, Bruce looked up to the security camera, “Jarvis, complete lock-down please. Cease all recording and monitoring until further notice.”  
“Acknowledged.”

**  
I have to start by apologising to you Darcy, I told the hospital that I was your regular GP and was seeking a copy of your records from the initial pick-up by the ambulance to the point of discharge. I had a reason for it though.  
You remember when I told you that your initial triage exam on site showed near ventilation levels of oxygen saturation? That wasn't all of it. See, normally, mammals operate at around 98% oxygen saturation in their blood. Low normal is usually around 95%. Oxygen support is reccomended for saturations between 80 and 95%. Blood pH changes to acidic when oxygen saturation hits the early to mid 90's. Ventilation is usually indicated if the patient is unable to maintain normal blood oxygen saturation without assistance, the reading drops below 79% without extra effort. Darce, your saturation levels when Steve pulled you out was 80%.  
The paramedics double checked the numbers with a bed-side blood pH meter. You were acidiotic. By all rights, you should have gone into respiratory arrest.  
After they got you on the oxygen mask, your saturation jumped up to 90% within minutes. Just before they got you to the hospital, the paramedics did another pH reading. You'd almost fully normalised- just with oxygen. That shouldn't happen without fluid therapy, or at least, not that quickly.  
This rapid recovery of yours meant that by the time they got you to the hospital, the doctors attributed the odd readings to equipment error. Any other person would have been in hospital for a few weeks with that level of damage.

Are you following so far? Good.  
Okay. I asked for permission to take your blood because that kind of recovery was just too odd. Even for me. I'd have expected to see that kind of healing in Steve or Nat here. I think I mentioned that? Right.

I ran every test imaginable Darce, then I ran them again. Do you know how the immune system works? No?  
Brief run down; you encounter a bug of some description, your body recognises it as foreign and releases what's called B and T cells. These cells are there purely to act as search and destroy. Once the B and T cells find the foreign thing, they eat it, analyse it, and make antibodies which replicate in the body and then those antibodies get circulated around and eat any of the other foreign invaders they come across. After the body destroys the bug, most of the antibodies disappear, having served their purpose, but a few remain and serve as a kind of memory, so that if you come across the bug again, they can destroy it before you get sick. It's how vaccinations work. Still with me?  
Darcy, your B and T cells are still active. They shouldn't be- you aren't fighting an infection.  
Nat and Steve's blood have similar characteristics.

The weirdness doesn't stop there. You've heard of stem cells right? Sort of? Okay. Stem cells are undifferentiated cells that haven't been programmed with a purpose yet. When you're still in the foetal stages of development, you're pretty much nothing but stem cells- they're the cells that turn into skin, eyes, hair, colon, heart etcetera.  
There's a lot of research going on at the moment with stem cells in order to aid in recovery after cancer and things like that. Anyway, I'm getting off the point. You've got higher than normal levels of stem cells floating around. I'd expect to see some floating around in the first few days after your injury- they get released from the bone marrow when there is enough damage, but I took your blood a week after you were released. They shouldn't still be there. I bet if I took another sample in two weeks time, the levels would still be the same.

The coincidences were bugging me, so I did some further analysis. Darcy, did you know that you're adopted? I'm sorry if you didn't... Oh, you did know. You've known since you were seven. Okay, that makes this next bit slightly easier.

The immune system differences were too similar to things I'd seen before with the Erskine serum and even myself, so I did some DNA comparisons. I ran them three times just to be sure. 

I asked you both here with some urgency because Jarvis could only stretch his programming to buy me three days before he had to tell Tony, and you both needed to know this before Tony did.

Darcy, Natasha is your mother.

**  
Air. There was no air in here. Why was there no air?  
She couldn't breathe. She needed to leave. God, she needed air.  
“Let me out. Now!”  
The doors opened and she ran. She needed to breathe.  
And hit something. Repeatedly.  
The Gym.

**  
Well, fuck.  
“Doc, are you sure?” Darcy felt as though she'd been gut punched. 

The thought of who her biological mother might be, was always more of an abstract thing than something that she actively thought about. There was never a point where Darcy wanted to find out more about her genetics; Darcy's Mum was Rachel and her Dad was Adam, and that was that. Darcy's parents had always been there for her, they'd done everything that parents were supposed to do; give hugs, love, guidance, required ass-kickings. And she'd been happy with the status quo.

Only now, Darcy had to reconcile this new reality with everything else.  
It was making her brain hurt.

“I'm sure Darcy. I can show you the results if you want.” She shook her head as Bruce sat down next to her and slid an arm around her shoulders.  
Thoughts were racing in every which way with no order to them. Darcy was sure she was on the verge of a freak-out when a stray idea popped to her fore-thoughts.

“Bruce, if I'm Nat's daughter, then why didn't the Red Room keep me to add to their creepy training program?” She shuddered to think about how her life could have gone in their hands. Ick didn't even cover it.

“I don't know for sure, Darcy. My best guess would be that they did some kind of testing- probably a bone marrow sample- before putting you up for adoption. When that came up negative for whatever it was they were looking for, I guess that they figured that you didn't inherit anything from Nat, so you were of no use to them.” Bruce handed her a handkerchief from somewhere. Darcy didn't even realise she was crying.

“That makes a weird kind of sense. So what caused my immune system to go all super soldier then?”  
Bruce smiled at the description.  
“Your cold.” Darcy looked at him, confused.  
“The 'cold' that went through your day care wasn't the normal cold or flu virus, Darcy. I ran a PCR after you told me that story. You and the rest of the kids at the day-care picked up a co-infection of two virus' that can mimic the effects of a flu, but are usually more severe. Neither virus was identified until the early 2000's. My guess was that the infection caused enough stress on your body, that it served as a catalyst to activate your latent immune system. Earlier bone marrow testing wouldn't have even picked it up.”

Huh.  
“Darcy, I want to apologise. I had no idea that this was what I'd find when my curiosity took over. I certainly didn't mean to hurt you. Either of you.”

Darcy smiled. Poor Doc. He was heading into guilt mode. 

“Not your fault, Doc. I'd much rather that you were the one to find this out instead of AIM or HYDRA or something. It would have been ten times worse if they'd found out. At least this way, we can lock down the information and only selectively release it on an as needed basis.”  
Darcy sniffled as she stood up.

“Do me a favour, Doc?” Bruce nodded.  
“Get Jarvis to tell Pepper first. That way she can corral Tony's more enthusiastic responses. I need to talk to Nat before she decides to go on a one-woman revenge mission to wipe out the remnants of the Red Room or something.”

Bruce agreed before adding, “Are you alright, Darcy?”

“Not yet, but I will be.”


	7. BOOM!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Natasha remembers...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Random outbreaks of 'eye sweat' have been reported in the vicinity of this chapter. The CDC advises that Tissues may be required...
> 
> In all seriousness though; There are topics discussed that might be triggery for anyone who has experienced similar situations. Please proceed with caution.
> 
> Also, this is the chapter that spawned the entire fic. It came to me in the shower- after I thought, hey, what if DL was Nat's kid? My brain is a sometimes weird, and scary place...
> 
> Thanks to everyone for continuing to read, review and just generally supporting this story, I appreciate knowing that it isn't completely crap! :)  
> This one is short, but (bitter)sweet. I feel, that to make it longer would lessen the impact. More to come, 'cos the damn thing still ain't done...

BOOM!

Darcy really, really wanted to go and hide in a corner with her blanket over her head and her teddy bear to smush until her mind had calmed down enough to make sense of everything. She couldn't though. Her curiosity wouldn't let her leave it there.  
She'd never been concerned enough, in the past, to try and find her birth mother. It was never an issue for her- her parents had given her every tool she could need to be secure in who she was and her place in the world. Sure, she'd been curious about who her original parents were, but more along the lines of the speculation that you'd do about anyone that may cross your thoughts from time to time; like, 'I wonder what Brad Pitt eats for breakfast'. Random thoughts and ideas that cross your consciousness for a moment but are then quickly dismissed.  
But this...

There was a term that had come up in one of her first-year units that seemed to fit her mental state at that moment; Cognitive Dissonance. Where a foreign concept or belief structure just didn't mesh with things that you'd thought or believed previously, and the conflict of reconciling both themes meant that you'd need step back and let your unconscious mind chew on the new information until it could be safely integrated into your psyche without leaving you a gibbering mess. Or something like that.

“Jarvis, could you tell me where Nat is please?” Darcy wandered over to the kitchen to grab a few things; water, coffee, tissues, tylenol (crying always gave Darcy a headache). Should she grab the vodka? Hmm... Nope, getting drunk could wait. Talking first, then drinking. Healthy coping mechanism? Hell no!, sometimes 'needed'? Yup... 

“Agent Romanova is in the gymnasium. She appears to be in some measure of distress.”

Darcy snorted, amused at the severity of Jarvis' understatement. Natasha's face had gone ashen while they were in the lab- she'd looked as though she was on the verge of collapsing.

“Thanks, J. I'm going in. Can you keep everyone out until we're done?”  
“I'll do what I can, Miss Lewis, but make no guarantees when it comes to Sir.”  
Darcy nodded in understanding, took a deep breath and stepped into the gym.

**  
Darcy knew that Nat was aware of her entering the gym. Even upset, there was no way that Natasha didn't know everything that was around her down to the smallest detail. 

Walking around the edge of the gym, Darcy stopped when she was in Natasha's periphery, pulled down an exercise ball to sit on and watched as Nat pounded the stuffing out of the punching bag in front of her. Darcy could see smudges of red across the blue canvas of the bag and sighed- of course Nat was punching bare-knuckled.. 'Cos that was the smart thing to do...

“Want to talk about it?”  
Darcy saw Natasha glance at her before turning her attention back to the bag. She wasn't ready yet.  
So Darcy waited.

**  
Close to an hour had passed since Darcy sat down. Still pounding on the bag, Natasha began to talk.

“I was on a long-term, deep-cover mission to take down some politician that the 'Room's masters wanted out of the way. I wasn't told why, just that I was to integrate myself into his life through any means necessary. So I did. I was good at my job and soon found myself by his side as his mistress and confidant.” The impact of strikes stayed steady. Thud, thud, thud.

“When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't believe it at first- I'd been on the same type of long mission before and had never even had a scare. The handlers were always careful that it didn't happen, but I think that because I was so deep in, that whatever they normally slipped us to stop conception had worn off enough that it happened.

“I was petrified at the thought of what they'd do to me, to my baby- you. So I began to plan. I knew how to disappear and hide. I'd been thinking about leaving for sometime before that mission, but knowing that I was going to have a baby gave me the motivation to take that step. I could give my child the life and childhood that I never got to have.” The strikes slowed momentarily, then sped back up.

“The first time that I felt the flutters of you moving around, I knew that I had to make my move before the recall came in. I staged my death and framed the politican for the murder of his mistress and their unborn child. It was the only way to buy enough time for me to run far enough away that I wouldn't be found, at least not easily. I managed to stay hidden and out of the Red Room's attention for most of the rest of my pregnancy, but they found me. I'd made a mistake you see- I was exhausted from running and had settled somewhere in Italy when they caught up with me.”  
Natasha was breathing hard now- it wasn't just from physical exertion.

“They dragged me back to Russia and kept me in a cell. I was watched constantly, so when labour started, they knew. They strapped me to a table and waited.

“I fought for you. I felt you slip out of my body and then they snatched you away before I even had a chance to hold you once. I heard you cry after your first breath and then I heard nothing else.” Nat had given up on the bag and was staring past Darcy, locked in her memories.

“They told me that you'd died, that you were malformed and didn't survive. I wanted to see you for myself, I didn't believe them- the ultrasounds had showed normal development at every point before they found me, so they had to be lying. I broke my restraints, climbed off that table- still bleeding, and tried to see you. They tried to hold me down, but I fought. I screamed and fought and I would have won through, but I was weak and they knocked me out.” There were silent tears tracing down Natasha's face. Darcy didn't even think that she was aware of it.

“When I woke up again, it was three days later. You were gone without a trace and I was told that by fighting I'd caused too much damage to my uterus to repair so they gave me a hysterectomy. I left the program not long after that. Went rogue and took contracts as they came to me. All the while searching for clues as to where you could have gone, what they did with you. I never forgot you, no matter how hard I thought that I wanted to forget, I never did. I wanted you, Darcy. From the minute I found out that I was pregnant, I knew that I wanted you. But they ripped you from me! And my arms, my life, my...heart... has been empty ever since.”

Tears were streaming down Darcy's face as her very soul seemed to ache for the woman standing in front of her. Natahsa looked so fragile in that moment- all her strength going into staying contained. Almost as if one more heart-blow would cause her to shatter and never be put back together. This strong, amazing woman who would have been her mother if circumstances been different, was on the verge of breaking.  
Darcy stood, wrapped her arms around Natasha's stiff shoulders and whispered, “I'm here now. It's not too late to hold me.”

With a gasping breath Natasha let go, wrapped her daughter in strong, steady arms and finally let herself feel everything she'd supressed for nearly thirty years. Heart-wrenching, soul-deep, keening sobs that could only come from mourning the loss (percieved or otherwise) of a child came pouring out.  
Darcy felt Natasha's legs buckle and soon they were on the floor of the gym, kneeling on the mats and still wrapped around each other. They stayed there for a long time, neither of them wanting to be the first to loosen their grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that alot of you were thinking that Bucky was DL's papa, but nope. that would have been too obvious.. :) sorry to disappoint...


	8. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The initial aftermath of the revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi *waves nervously*. Sorry about the lag between updates. The chapter fought me again until I deleted it and rearranged the sequences. Lesson for next story: finish writing it before posting.  
> I'm back at uni tomorrow, so updates will likely be even slower from here on in, but they will happen. I won't abandon this.  
> Thanks to everyone for their continued support. I do appreciate it. :)  
> Enjoy.

The Aftermath

Darcy stayed, kneeling in Natasha's embrace until her legs fell asleep and even then, Darcy merely straightened out her legs to the side of the other woman. She didn't want to be the one to let go first just in case Nat saw it as a rejection- she didn't think that Nat could handle another heart-hit this soon.  
Humming tunelessly under her breath, Darcy began to gently rock while rubbing Nat's back. Not only was Darcy trying to comfort the assassin (who had calmed enough to be at that shaky sob-breathing stage that comes after a much needed crying session) but her butt was going numb and had a killer case of pins and needles. Hopefully the movement and noise would get Nat to release her before Darcy lost all feeling below her waist.

**  
“Darcy?” The sound of Natasha's voice woke Darcy from the doze she'd been drifitng in for the last... who knew how long? Sue her- it was late and Nat was comfy, so why not doze?

“Yeah, Nat?”  
“Were you happy, growing up?”

Darcy was stuck on how to answer. How did you tell someone that the child that had been kidnapped from them- snatched from their arms minutes after they'd given birth- had grown up happy, healthy and loved somewhere else, with someone else? How did you phrase it so that you didn't twist the proverbial knife even deeper, into the already soul-deep wound?

Darcy was never one to soften the blow with pretty lies or half-truths (that and she was crap at fibbing- she was usually always been found out), so she settled for the simple; “Yeah Nat, I was happy.”

She felt Natasha nod against her neck- her head had dropped to Darcy's shoulder at some point- before she sat up. “Good. That's good.”

In the few months that Darcy had known Natasha, she'd never seen her anything but completely put together. Even after missions, Nat had always exuded an air of competence and stoicism that Darcy had envied, but this was a different side to her.  
With tears still sparking in Natasha's eyes, Darcy had a moment of sharp realisation- that Natasha was just a human. Sure, she had advantages that most others didn't, but she still bled, she still felt pain- both physical and mental and she still wanted the things that everyone wanted; to be loved, to be part of a family. To be held in the arms of people who cared about _her_. But all of that was kept hidden behind the wall that was the 'Black Widow' and the facade of extreme competence that Natasha projected in the day-to-day. 

Darcy had never hated, _despised_ , anyone more in that one moment, than the way she hated the facilitators of the Red Room. That those assholes could do those things to _anyone_ , let alone Natasha... there weren't enough words in any of the languages that Darcy spoke that could accurately describe her revulsion. The assholes needed to burn. 

“We should probably go and get dinner. I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Did you want a few minutes to freshen up?” Darcy waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the gym's changing area. Nodding at her, Natasha stood and went to move, but then stopped.

“Darcy, I know that I can't be your mother now- you already have one who was there for you for everything that you needed, but I do want to be part of your life. Maybe as an older sister in truth, instead of just a pet name.”  
Smiling to banish the last of the tears, Darcy grinned at the red-head and said, “I'd like that.”

**  
There was music playing when they walked through the common room on their search for food. In and of itsself, it wasn't unusual, but there was something about that particular song that was tickling the back of Darcy's brain. It would bug her until she figured it out.

Distracted by her hunt for sustenence, it took a few minutes to realise that the others weren't waiting to ambush them.

“Jarvis, where is everyone? I half expected Tony to be here cracking lame jokes?”  
Natasha snorted with amusement at Darcy's question as she pulled down the vodka and a couple of shot glasses. 

“Ms Potts decreed that yourself and Agent Romanova be allowed some space to adjust. All residents of the tower are currently in their respective apartments.”

“Pepper is awesome. Tell her thanks.” Darcy started putting together sandwiches for toasting as she hummed along to the music playing in the background. She was just putting the first one into the sandwhich press when the chorus came. Realisation hit like a two-by-four to the forehead.  
Huffing in indignation, Darcy turned to Nat and said, “Tony is a troll.”

The other woman smiled at her. “I knew that. But what's he done this time?”  
“The song playing in the background?” Darcy waited a beat so that Nat could listen. “It's Paul Simon, on repeat.” Nat raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'What of it?'.

“The song is called 'Mother and Child Reunion'. Tony is a troll.”

Nat snorted vodka up her nose as she began laughing.

**  
Steve was the first person to wander into the common room the next morning. At first he thought that the room was empty- normally there were people puttering around making coffee or reading the 'paper' (Steve was still getting used to just how much print media was falling into decline), but there appeared to be no-one there yet. Then he saw the coffee table. It was littered with plates, chocolate wrappers and an empty vodka bottle sitting next to two shot glasses and Darcy's spectacles.

This drew his eye to the couch as he rounded the corner.  
Natasha was asleep, leaning against the arm-rest of the couch. Darcy was slumped against the assassin's shoulder, mouth open and making those noises that you don't call snoring unless you wanted to be slapped. Nat's arm was over Darcy's shoulder and a blanket covered both women's legs. Steve couldn't help smiling broadly at the picture they made. 

Leaving them to sleep, Steve moved into the kitchen area to start some coffee and begin breakfast for whomever wanted it.

He wasn't sure what to think about the whole 'Nat is Darcy's mother' thing. 

It struck him as a little cinematic and surreal (a scene from a movie he'd watched about some mystical force thing popped into his head), but then, it could be argued that his own story was also a little odd. It made sense in an odd way though- there were moments when Darcy would tilt her head, or stand with a hand on her hips that seemed to echo Natasha's natural movements. That and both women had curves, the way that he thought a woman should (he was polite, but he wasn't dead; of course he'd noticed their figures). If Darcy cut her hair and dyed it the same colour as Nat's, then it would be hard to tell the women apart from behind.

Steve was chopping up mushrooms for the omlettes he'd decided to make for breakfast, when he heard someone else come into the common room. Keeping mental fingers crossed that whoever it was didn't wake the women, Steve looked up to see Bruce staring at Darcy and Nat on the couch before he walked over to the kitchen bench. There was worry with a hint of guilt written all over Bruce's face. 

The men nodded to each other in greeting as Bruce moved to put the kettle on for tea.

“I think that everything will be alright, Bruce. I don't think that they'd be wrapped up together like that if there were hard feelings.” Steve said, trying to reassure him. “Would you like an omelette?”

Nodding in acceptance of Steve's offer, Bruce went about fixing his tea the way he preferred.

“I still can't help thinking that by looking into how Darcy healed that quickly after the fire, that I managed to crack whatever stability they'd found in their friendship with each other.” Bruce took a mouthful of tea before continuing. “I worry, that in doing so, I've somehow damaged the rest of the team- the ripples from this will affect all of us, and for that I am so, so sorry.”

Steve thought carefully about what Bruce had said. He was right to be concerned- a shift in any team's dynamics could change the rhythym of how they worked with each other- but Steve didn't think that the Darcy/Natasha situation would change things negatively. If anything, having Darcy in her life would likely give Natasha another anchor to the here and now, instead of relying solely on Clint for ballast when the memories became too much- and that could only be a good thing. Speaking of which, he wondered if anyone had called the archer home yet- Nat would likely need him sooner than later... hmm.

Putting a plate filled with fluffy, eggy goodness in front of Bruce before turning to make his own, Steve shared his conclusions with the scientist as they ate. Bruce nodded in concession to Steve's point, both men drifted into a comfortable silence to the sound of a clock ticking in the background. 

**  
Coffee.  
He needed coffee. And probably sleep, but that could wait.  
Tony had been up all night looking over the records that SHIELD had put together on both Natasha and Darcy. There were noticable gaps and holes in their stories that were large enough to drive a truck through. It was bugging him. He didn't like not knowing something.  
Pepper had told him to leave it be for now; to let the team adjust to the changes before poking at potentially raw wounds. Tony had bowed to Pepper's logic- she was much more people-smart than he was. Of course, that didn't stop him from having Jarvis crack into Darcy's adoption records- it all looked legitimate and above-board, but how did the daughter of an assassin from an experimental, clandestine operation based in Russia before the fall of the Iron Curtain wind up in the care of a normal couple from Virginia? There had to be something fishy going on.

Speaking of fishy; the report from the arson squad on the fifth-floor fire had come back a few days ago, but in the excitement of everything else had been pushed aside until now. They'd concluded that the fire was deliberatly lit (duh) and that it was just bad luck that Darcy was caught in it.  
That didn't sit well with Tony. The timing of the fire catching and Darcy's arrival on the floor was a bit too much of a coincidence for Tony's peace-of-mind. He'd set Jarvis to scanning all of the security footage from the night of the fire, looking for anything or anyone suspicious.

Tony was looking through paperwork that Pepper had told him to go through, or else, on a tablet as he wandered into the common room in his search for coffee.

The soft sound of a throat being cleared made Tony look up to see Steve and Bruce sitting at the breakfast bar attached to the kitchen. It looked like they were eating eggs. They smelled good. Tony's stomach gave a gurgle of agreement and then cramped in revenge for being left empty for too long. If he was thinking that individual body parts were ganging up on him, then Tony definatly needed sleep. Later. After eggs.

After fixing a coffee to his tastes (cream, three sugars and a dash of cinnamon), Tony joined the other men.  
“Itsy-bitsy and Sheloeb made an appearance yet?” Taking a bite of the omelette Steve had just put in front of his coffee cup, Tony missed the glare that was sent his way by Bruce.

“If you mean Darcy and Natasha”, Steve paused for confirmation of his assumption, “then they are both currently asleep on the couch. Try not to wake them.”

“Still? Sheesh. There's stuff to talk about and villains to find. They need to be up already.” Mumbling through his mouthful, Tony tapped a few icons on the tablet next to him.

“Not everyone runs on the same schedule as you, Tony.” Bruce rebuked “Also, don't talk with your mouth full.”

**  
Natasha had woken up when Steve had first came into the room. Even mentally and emotionally wrung out, she still slept light enough to hear a pin drop in the next room, so Steve's sneaking about was similar to having a herd of elephants stampede past her while doing the can-can. In roller-blades.

She couldn't say why she pretended to stay asleep as the guys trickled in, only that she was comfortable with the warm weight of Darcy leaning against her. Yes, the position was awkward and she had a bit a crick in her neck, but she didn't want to move. Nothing short of another alien invasion would make her move either- not until Darcy woke up.

The memory of being pregnant and feeling her baby kick was like one of those precious babules that you'd keep on the shelf, occasionally dust off to marvel at and then put back with the utmost care until the next time that a reminder of the feelings that it invoked came up.  
For so long now, Natasha had been keeping that period of her life suppressed and at the back of her mind. To have it all suddenly wrenched to the forefront of her psyche... it felt as though she was reliving it all over again. 

The thought of all the events in Darcy's life that she'd missed, made her breath catch. She could admit- at least to herself- that she was both ragingly jealous of and deeply grateful for Darcy's adoptive mother.  
While she was pregnant, Natasha had often imagined being there to see her daughter's first steps, hearing her first words and wondering what they'd be. Of going shopping for training bras and getting ready for school socials. Natasha had wanted to be there for the first time that her baby had her heart broken- to hold her close and stroke her hair from her face and wipe away the tears. But she hadn't been- that other woman had been there to witness all of those events, so for that, Natasha was grateful her daughter had been safe and loved, but still, so very jealous that it wasn't her arms that Darcy had run to for comfort or to share personal triumphs.  
And it wasn't fair. 

It. Wasn't. Fair.

She was angry.  
No, angry wasn't a big enough word to describe just how much she wanted to rip and tear and rend from limb to limb those men who had taken her life and torn it to shreds. She wanted to make them feel the heart-pain she'd experienced in having her daughter torn away from her. She wanted to make them feel the hot knife of grief, tearing at their minds until it felt like they were going insane.

Darcy sighing in her sleep brought Natasha back from her plans of vengeance. They'd keep for now. She'd get the rest of the team on the plans to take down whatever was left of the Red Room.  
If there was one thing she'd learnt since coming to the tower, it was that she wasn't alone anymore, she had friends (dare she say family?) to watch her back in tough situations. She had more than just Clint now. It was a strange sensation for someone who was used to working alone and without support. But she liked it. Hell, she even liked Tony's gruff sarcasm from time to time.  
Speak of the devil...

Mentally snorting at the new nick-names that Tony had come up with, Natasha thought about the connotations- big, scary 'mother of monsters' spider and the little arachnid who startled a precocious priss away from her meal. It kind of fit. Of course, she'd never tell Tony that she liked the nicknames- it would just feed his ego.  
Natasha had suggested that her role in Darcy's life would be that of big sister from now on. To anyone else, she would exemplifiy all the qualities that an older sister should have; caring, loving, willing to be a shoulder to cry on- but privately, in her deepest of hearts, Nat would be a second mother to Darcy. She would be the guardian at the gate- someone that Darcy could run to or hide behind if that was what she needed. She would kill or die to protect her long lost, but now found, daughter.

And much like Sheloeb in the story, Natasha would end _anyone_ who even _thought_ about hurting Darcy. Her little spider.

**  
The smell of coffee and cooked eggs drew Darcy from her slumber. Her head felt foggy and her mouth tasted fuzzy and there was no way in hell that she was opening her eyes until her first cup of coffee had been absorbed. Preferably via IV infusion. That would teach her to go drink for drink with a Russian born assassin.  
It had been a kind of catharsis though. They'd stayed awake into the small hours of the morning talking and getting to know each other even more than they did already. Natasha had been in the middle of telling her about the mission to Budapest when Darcy had finally fallen asleep against Natasha's shoulder. By the feel of the non-pillow under her cheek and arm over her shoulders, she was still leaning against the older woman. Meh, there were worse places to fall asleep. Besides, Nat was warm and the sound of her heart beating under Darcy's ear gave Darcy the same sense of peace that she normally felt when she was snuggling with her mum on a crappy day.

Man, what, if anything, was she going to tell her mum about all of this? How do you broach that particular can of worms?

Putting the issue aside for now, Darcy untangled herself from Nat, waking the woman in the process, as the pressure from her bladder became too much to ignore, fumbled for her glasses and shuffled off to the bathroom.

After washing her hands and running wet fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to neaten the snarled birds nest, Darcy shuffled out of the bathroom to find the coffee that she'd smelled earlier.

Grunting a greeting at the people at the breakfast bar (she was still too foggy to try and put names to faces), Darcy poured her first cup of coffee and drank it in one continuous pull before pouring a second and adding the required sugars and milk.  
They were all staring at her.  
“What?”

Chuckling, Steve raised and eyebrow and asked, “Everything alright Darcy?”

She was still half asleep- the coffee hadn't kicked in yet. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“Yesterday was eventful. We thought you might want to talk about it.” 

Darcy blinked at Steve, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Oh. That.

“Thanks for the offer guys, but I'm still processing everything.” Darcy looked up to see who else was at the breakfast bar. Steve was exuding calm sympathy, Tony was looking blearily befuddled between his tablet and Darcy- she figured that he'd been up for too long, Nat had moved from the couch to a stool and was hugging a cup of tea and Bruce... Bruce still looked as though someone had told him that Santa wasn't real. 

“Doc, I've already told you that I'm glad you were the one to figure out the connection between Nat and I, and not some paramilitary spook squad. Don't look so devastated.” Darcy awkwardly patted the scientist on the shoulder in reassurance. 

They were all still staring at her, almost as though they expected her to burst into tears or something. It made her uncomfortable. She was also not awake enough for another heart-to-heart with members of the super-family. 

“Guys, seriously. I'm ok-ish.” Darcy was beginning to lose patience. “I know that we should discuss everything, and we will, but we're currently four members short and I need a shower in the worst way possible.”

Realising that she was coming to the end of her rope, Steve nodded. The rest of the men nodding in agreement as well. Darcy saw Natasha smirk at her and they shared a moment of understanding- that the male members of the household were all mother-hens in their own ways. It was sweet.

**  
Darcy had made her escape to her room after eating one of the tastiest omelettes she'd ever had and a third cup of coffee.

She should really check on Jane. Odds were, Jane had gone back to the lab after she'd bailed on dinner. Shower first though.


	9. Interludes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Peeks around corner* Sorry for the delay in updating this. Life got in the way. It's not really a long chapter, more of a transition into the next plot arc, but hopefully it will be enough to keep the momentum going.  
> Uni starts again this coming week, so odds are, I'll be back to lurking for awhile. I haven't abandoned this story, or the lynchpin 'verse, so just please continue to be patient with me.  
> Enjoy.

Interludes

Darcy

There was something soothing about being back in her room, surrounded by all of her things and all of her memories. They served as an anchor, grounding her to who she was and where she had come from. The photos of her parents surrounding her at her graduation, all of them smiling wide and toothy at the camera gave her some solace from the crazy. Pictures of first pets and friends from school. Snap-shots of pre and post-Thor (part one) drunken shenanigans with Jane in the lab in New Mexico. Half-blurry selfies with cousins on reunion trips. Moments captured that helped her to re-find her equilibrium after the turbulent last few weeks. 

But, there was a sense of un-reality as well- almost as if there should be a line drawn on the ground to show the demarkation point between 'then' and 'now'. 'Then' when Darcy was simply a post-grad lab assistant and genius wrangler, and 'Now' when she was 'The Black-Widow's Daughter'. She wasn't sure she could, or even wanted to live up to the title.

Jane had been suprisingly sanguine, almost philosophical, about the whole thing. Of course, Darcy suspected that Jane had been in the grips of a !Science bender when Darcy had spoken to her. She didn't think Jane had really processed everything that Darcy had told her about what Bruce had discovered- Darcy was half expecting a frenzied Jane to be pounding on her door with a bottle of tequila and a tub of ice-cream after she'd had a nap and allowed some time for the penny to drop.

Deciding that a bath was called for, Darcy ran the water into her tub, added a liberal amount of neroli and jasmine scented bath salts and had a quick wash off in the shower as the tub filled. People always though Darcy was weird for showering before having a bath but Darcy maintained that it was just gross to sit in water with all the grime and sweat of the day floating around her. ew.  
Normally, there would be a glass of wine sitting next to the tub, this time though, wine would just make her sleepy. Darcy had too much to think about.

**  
Elsewhere:  
It had failed. The fire that was meant to serve as a large enough distraction to allow their operatives to infiltrate into the server rooms was put out too quickly. Someone had pulled the fire alarm soon after the charge had ignited. Now the tower was in lock down. Anyone who didn't have valid ID was denied entry past the foyer, let alone given access to the elevators.  
The observer had even reported that the fire investigators were escorted at all times.

They would just have to try again, in some other fashion.

**  
Natasha

She was compromised. Knowing that her daughter was not only alive and well, but mere floors away from her was causing her usual stoic facade to crack. For so long, she'd kept her secret to herself, locked in the furthest reaches of her memory, that to have it suddenly brought to the forefront was shattering her calm.  
She'd never told anyone, not even Clint, that she'd had a child. 

She needed to go out and do something that would help her return to equilibrium. Then she would hunt down the remains of her captors and make them wish they'd never been born.

A quick text message to an untracable number had a response within minutes. There was a short term mission to Europe that would require her skills before needing to be back state-side for something else. There were no details yet on the 'something else', but a short stint should be enough to help clear her head.

Natasha was instantly guilty- she knew she was running from her problems, and that it wasn't fair to Darcy when they were just beginning to know each other within their new dynamic, but she needed to hit the mental reset before she could be any kind of friend to the girl, let alone anything else. 

Frowning, Natasha picked up her phone again and sent a message to her daughter. 

_A mission has come up. Back soon. Spa day when I get back?_

Before she reached the door to her wardrobe, Natasha's phone lit up with a reply.

_Absolutely. Stay safe._

Ignoring the thought that her actions may be seen as cowardly, Natasha grabbed her stuff and left the tower.

 

**  
Tony

It would be more than fair to say that Tony was pissed.  
Someone had broken into his tower and deliberatly lit a fire on one of the more benign administrative floors. JARVIS was still combing through the security footage to try and identify the arsonists but it was taking a while- the days of footage that had been recorded translated to terabytes of data. Not only was JARVIS tasked with scanning the footage for who set the fire, but that kind of infiltration took time to set up. The saboteurs would have needed to be watching for some time to find the holes in security as well as ways to infiltrate the services department that handled the cleaning of the tower and business floors. JARVIS was working to find any anomolies that would point to who was responsible for the fire.

It galled Tony that his own hubris in believing that he'd forseen any problem had caused one of his friends (fledgling family members?) to wind up in the hospital. Sure, the logic needed to reach that conclusion was a bit squiggly, but the guilt he felt was real. 

With a swallow of (cold, stale) coffee, Tony flicked a message to Hawkeye's email and requested his assistance with finding the holes that were obviously there in the security of the tower. There would be no more 'accidents' like this again if he could help it. 

**  
Bruce

All of his instincts were screaming at him to run. To get the cheapest plane ticket to the middle of nowhere and hide where he couldn't be found. He'd done it before and there were still people out there who would be more than willing to help him stay hidden.  
But his instincts were wrong this time.

He needed to make reparations for his blundering, bull-headed approach to investigating how Darcy had survived that fire with only minor smoke inhalation. He'd never meant to turn his friends' lives upside down with what he'd found out; he'd never wanted to be the kind of person who could blurt out information and not realise the extent of turmoil that was left behind.  
So he wouldn't run.

**  
Clint

He hated the jungle; it was boring. All jibes about birds and trees aside, he didn't like the moisture in the air (ruined his bow-strings) or the lack of pizza. That and he missed Nat.  
She was his best friend. His confidant and sounding board and deliverer of hard truths. They'd been on separate missions before, but neither of them liked it. SHIELD had already deployed Nat to Europe when they sent him here to look into unusal activity at some cave complex. Like he knew anything about speleology? He had to use google to even find out that there was an actual name for cave study. Who knew?  
So bored.

He'd been watching this cave for over a week now. Nothing had happened. Except the bats. Creepy little fuckers kept tangling themselves in his nest's cover and had to be fished out before they could finish hunting for bugs. Good thing he'd had his rabies vaccinations. A text from Nat was the highlight of that particular day. He'd had to suppress a snort when he read it; _Got bored, finished early. Heading home now._  
Looked like his boredom was contagious even with a couple of continents separating them.  
In order to keep himself sane, Clint started to sing the 'Bottles on the wall song' under his breath, and to give himself a bit more of a challenge, started at one million.  
Three days later, Clint was passing around the six-hundred-fifty-eight-thousand-four-hundred-and-fourty-fifth bottle when another text from Nat came through. This time, the contents made him frown. _Had to bail, back later._

In all the time that he'd known her, Nat had never run from anything. It wasn't like her. There was something really wrong.  
Breaking mission protocol (and forgetting where he was up to with the bottles), Clint sent her a message back. _What's up?_. Her reply had him packing up within seconds.  
 _Ghosts of the past, back to haunt._


End file.
